Abstinence
by Gala000085
Summary: Sam and Dean head out for another job, but soon find that they are in way over their heads, when the main matter of the hunt, a teenage boy, is not quite what he first seemed. Rating for violence and abuse. No slash or incest. Not a third brother fic.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Some of the plotlines for this story is actually from a book that I have written, so if I should ever publish (and did you know that it also snows in Hell?) this story will of course be taken down, but until then I will just happily write it.

I hope that you enjoy reading this...

* * *

A distant noise rang in his ears, prying him to wake up. He felt his mind slowly returning to consciousness, but could not find the strength to open his eyes. _Great, _he thought to himself as his even his mind began to feel heavy, _just freaking great_. The noise was getting closer and he tried desperately to try and get his body and mind to cooperate. Even though breathing was difficult he tried desperately to try and draw a deep breath, though it came out more as a strained rasping. 

He thought he heard voices, but when he again tried to move away from the noise, pain erupted in his body and he drew a gasping breath. There was definitely someone there – he was sure of that now. What was that noise? Footsteps? _Oh no. Please no_. Or was it voices? How could it be voices? He had learned not to say anything; simply to shut up and take it – _what had he said? Oh yeah_ – like a man.

"Mal?" The voice cut through his mind a like a piercing knife. Well, maybe not that hard, but you get the picture.

He knew that voice from somewhere, but he had not heard for what felt like an eternity. Warm fingers touched his throat and he tried to shy away from the touch, but his body simply refused to listen.

"He's alive." Another familiar voice informed the first. He felt his mind starting to loose its grip on consciousness, but he fought for it frantically. "Mike? Mike, what do we do?"

_Mike!_ He knew he had heard that voice before.

"Peter, we got to get out of here and get the cops and an ambulance. Peter! Snap out of it!"

_That was Mike's voice again. So Peter's with him. NO!_ He fought against the mist swirling in his mind harder than before. They had to go and never come back. If he found them here…

He managed to pry his eyelids open, but it did not really make a big difference – the darkness was just the same.

"Mike?" He whispered. _Well, I think I said something, but I'm not quite sure_.

The voices around him had died down without him even noticing. He fought unconsciousness feebly for a few more moments, but gave up and let it overtake him again. It was a familiar feeling, slipping into unconsciousness, almost like going home.

* * *

Dean heard Sam typing on the keyboard of the laptop even before he entered the motel. _Great walls._ Going into the for-once-not-so-shabby motel room, he found Sam, as predicted, typing away on the laptop with a frown of concentration on his face. _Oh dear, what now?_ It always worried him slightly when his brother went into freak mode, but he hoped that this time it was not because of anything too serious. There had been enough seriousness around lately. 

"I brought the coffee and doughnuts." Dean informed Sam as he closed the door behind him.

"Great, thanks." Sam said, looking up from the screen momentarily. Dean handed him one of the coffees and watched as Sam dazed into nothingness for a moment while holding the cup between his hands. "Dean?" He said as he finally looked up. _Oh no, here it comes. Well, I can't really come up with any quick escape plans_. "Dean, do you think we should do this job?"

"What job?" Dean asked, momentarily interested, as he sat down opposite Sam.

"Well, I did some research this morning," Sam began as he turned the laptop around to face Dean, "and I found this."

As Dean leaned forwards to get a closer look at the screen, his eyes were met by a slightly blurry photograph of a teenage boy. The boy was potentially handsome with dark brown, almost black, hair and greenish-blue eyes. There was something there that startled Dean though. A boy his age would normally look joyous and maybe slightly mischievous, but not this one: there seemed to be nothing in his eyes; they held no joy and what Dean thought, no hope.

Dean tore his eyes from the photograph and instead started reading snippets from the article aloud, "Mal Johnson, teenage boy of sixteen, was found in his own basement by his two friends Michael Cobb and Peter Williams last night, after they had not seen any sign of him for a week. Information on the cause of the disappearance of the teenage boy has so far been withheld." Dean lifted his gaze to rest on Sam who looked at him intently. "You think this is a job for us?"

"We could at least check it out." Sam said in his oh-so-brilliant-matter-of-fact tone. "There is just something about this that seems…wrong, if you know what I mean."

Dean smiled at his brother and grabbed a doughnut.

"I know exactly what you mean, Sammy." He said, not really bothered that he was chewing while talking. "It's quite a drive, so I say we leave after breakfast."

"It's Sam." His brother informed him as he too took out a doughnut. "And after breakfast sounds fine."

It was on the third day of travelling that things started getting a little bit tense. Three days in a row, Dean had played the same music and they had been having a few friendly conversations now and again, and everything had actually been going, well, okay. Now, however, Dean could see that his brother was starting to get uncomfortable, or quite simply, irritated.

"You okay there, Sam?" Dean asked, turning down the music slightly thinking that maybe that would make his brother happier.

"I'm fine."

"You are?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you're sure?"

"Yes."

_Now he's just getting touchy_. Dean thought that maybe it would just have been best to drop it there, but they needed to work this through now or this journey would be very long indeed.

"You know, I could turn the music off for a while if that would be better." Dean said. _Come on, Sam. That's really very kind of me._

"Dean, are you sure _you_ are okay?" Sam joked as he turned off the stereo.

"Sure I am, Sam."

_At least when he falls asleep I'll just turn the music back on._

They finally arrived at their destination that evening, both very grateful to finally be out of the car, though Dean was rather reluctant to admit it. They decided that it was probably best to get something to eat and find somewhere to stay before doing much else.

"Well, I don't think we can do much else until morning." Sam said truthfully as they headed towards a diner. When they entered they were met by rather loud music. It was first when they had sat down in a booth that Dean recognised the song as _What About Love_ by Heart. Sam did not really seem interested when Dean pointed this fact out to him. He only raised his eyebrows at Dean and said, "Yeah? So?"

_Dinner…he definitely needs dinner._

Dean was rather pleased that dinner lightened Sam's mood considerably, so when they headed back to the Impala to try and find a motel, Sam was almost pleasant company.

"What do you mean I am _almost_ pleasant company?" Sam enquired as they settled in the Impala.

"Nothing." Dean smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes but let the matter drop.

It did not take them as long to find a motel as Dean had first thought and were quite happy to find that it was only about five minutes from the hospital that Mal Johnson was at.

"Hey Dean?" Sam said as they dumped their stuff on the floor in the motel room.

"Yeah?"

"We forgot to arrange a fake cover."

"Nah, don't worry, Sammy. You're big brother is well organised." Sam snorted loudly at Dean's remark, but merely suppressed a laugh when Dean sent him a look. "I thought we could be from Child Welfare or something."

"That could probably work. You got any badges?" Sam asked as he took off his jacket and threw it on one of the beds.

"The man of resources, that's me." Dean said happily as he pulled out to badges from his satchel and threw one to Sam who caught it instinctively.

It was sometime later when they were both in bed and Dean was starting to doze off that Sam's voice brought him back to consciousness.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think we will find tomorrow?"

"I don't know Sam." _I don't even know if I want to know._

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Please review and tell if this is worth continuing with or even if you think that it is complete...well you get the picture! 

I know that the chapter is way, way too short, but I thought that at least the story has been set up and I (hopefully) have somewhere to go with it.

Anyway, as I said, please review: the good, the bad and the ugly. ;-)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Supernatural or any of its characters. I do, however, own the characters of Mal, Mike and Peter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much to Vacant13 for the review! I hope you like this chapter.

* * *

Dean woke early the next morning. The sun had just begun to make its way over the houses to shine its first rays of light. Dean groaned, wishing that his body and mind would just let him fall back to sleep, at least for a couple more hours. His body still felt tired and heavy, though his mind was wide awake and urging him to do _something_. He blinked a couple of times, trying to determine whether or not he really wanted to get up already. The answer was no. He did not particularly _want_ to get up this early, but at the same time, just lying in bed seemed utterly pointless.

He grunted as he dragged his body off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. On his way back out a couple of minutes later, he shot a glance at Sam's sleeping form, holding back a laugh when he saw his little brother lying with his face squashed into the pillow. Dean looked through his bag and found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt which he quickly dressed into. He slipped on his boots and jacket quietly, trying desperately hard not to wake up Sam. He made his way out to the Impala without seeing a soul around – well, except for the motel owner's cat that was out on a morning hunt. When the cat saw him it trotted happily over to him and meowed loudly when he first ignored it.

"Hello, kitty." He said absentmindedly as he crouched down on the ground to stroke the cat's soft fur. The cat purred loudly in consent and rubbed its head against his hand.

Dean stood up again and got into the Impala. The engine roared to life and for a moment he was worried that the familiar sound had woken Sam, but there seemed to be no movement in their motel room. Dean released a sigh of relief and drove out off the motel parking area in search for breakfast. The town was not too big, which of course made it a lot easier to find anything. Dean passed the hospital that they were to visit later, but at the sight of the building, Dean again felt slightly worried about what they would find. Sure the article had said that this kid, Mal Johnson, was alive, but Dean had seen enough to know that did not mean that everything was okay. He half-wished that they had never come as Dean always found it harder to keep his emotions under control when children were involved. He supposed it was simply just a father instinct.

After having collected breakfast – which again consisted of coffee and doughnuts – Dean made his way back to the motel. It was still early, but he thought that Sam would probably not be too happy if Dean let him sleep until the coffee turned cold. Therefore he decided that it was a good idea to wake his brother, if he was not already up.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he entered their motel room and found that Sam's bed was empty and the door to the bathroom was closed.

"Hey, Sam, I'm back." Dean announced as he put down the bag of doughnuts on his bed.

"Where were you?" Sam's voice asked from behind the bathroom door.

"Just getting the coffee and doughnuts." Dean said.

"We are seriously going to die young if our diet does not improve." Sam laughed as he walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a black suit.

"Wow." Was all Dean managed to say.

"Dean, if we're going to pass as people from Child Welfare, we do need to look the part." Sam informed him as he grabbed a doughnut from the bag.

_Damn, he is right. That suit and I just have some issues we need to work through._

"I'll change after breakfast." Dean promised and took a sip of the coffee. He grimaced slightly at the fake taste. "Dude, at one point in our life we have got to find out what real coffee tastes like."

Sam laughed, but agreed with Dean when he too took a sip of the coffee.

"Guess I should get changed then." Dean said as he crumpled up the empty doughnut bag.

"Okay. You got your badge?" Sam asked as he started shoving his own into the inside pocket of the jacket.

"Dude, I told you yesterday: I am very organised." Dean joked, but when Sam laughed again he added quickly, "When the occasion requires it."

Dean swore loudly as he fiddled with the top button of the shirt, which, as usual, quite plainly refused to do what it was supposed to. After a couple of minutes of intense battle, however, Dean was ready pass as a worker from Child Welfare. He too slipped his badge into his inside pocket. He grabbed the car keys, and then he and Sam left the motel room and made their way out to the Impala.

The drive to the hospital was indeed very short and it was not long before the two Winchesters were walking through the main entrance to the hospital. They headed straight for the reception desk, where a grumpy looking nurse sat. _Great_, Dean thought, _the charmer smile probably won't work on her_. He noticed, however, that Sam had plastered a polite smile on his face.

"Hi." Sam said as they reached the desk.

"Hello." The nurse said and looked at Sam expectantly.

"We are from child welfare," Sam began to explain as he fished out his badge, "we are here to see Mal Johnson."

Dean also took out his badge and showed the nurse. At the mention of the boy's name, however, the nurse's expression changed from grumpy to worry.

"Wait here a moment." She said as she picked up a phone. "Yes, hello?" This is Nurse Sampson here. There are two gentlemen here from Child Welfare wishing to see Mal Johnson…Very well, Dr Roberts." She put down the phone again and returned her gaze to Sam and Dean. "If you would like to take the lift or the stairs over there to level three, Dr Roberts will take you through the rest."

The boys thanked the nurse and made their way to level three and when they reached the floor a doctor came striding towards them. He was quite young, probably in his late thirties or early forties, though his eyes looked older. He looked extremely tired but managed to smile at the brothers when he reached them.

"Hello," He said as he shook hands with them, "I'm Dr Roberts."

"Dean Coles, and this is Sam Richards, from Child Welfare." Dean introduced them, though he was quite proud that he remembered the fake ID names.

"Well, if you'll come with me we'll talk somewhere a little quieter." Dr Roberts directed to a small office where he gestured for them to sit down on two chairs opposite a desk. He sat down on the other side of the desk. When they were all seated, Dr Roberts leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply. "What have you heard about Mal Johnson?"

"I beg you pardon?" Dean said, slightly confused about the sudden question.

"What do you know about Mal Johnson?" Dr Roberts asked again.

"We weren't told much, only that he had been found in his own basement after having disappeared for a week." Sam said truthfully.

"That was what I thought." Dr Roberts said as he eyed them closely. He was starting to freak Dean out slightly. "Mal's two friends, Michael and Peter, were starting to worry that he had disappeared for that amount of time. They told the police and me that they usually met up everyday late in the afternoon, but Mal had not shown. As two teenage boys, naturally they broke into the basement of Mal's house where they found him." Dr Roberts sighed again and rubbed his eyes. He looked back at the Winchesters and continued. "He had been tied to a bed with his hands over his head and the legs tied by the ankles to a separate bedpost."

Dean was already starting to feel slightly sick and when he glanced at Sam, he guessed his brother had the same feeling.

"I will get you his chart so you can get an idea of what happened to him." Dr Roberts said as he rose from his chair and left the room.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean whispered. Sam didn't answer but merely shook his head. _We really are in way over our heads_.

Dr Roberts came back into the office and handed Dean the chart before sitting back down in his chair. Sam leaned over and read over Dean's shoulder. Dean skimmed the list of the various injuries, his eyes catching phrases such as _'broken rips' 'signs of severe beatings' swollen wrists and ankles' 'knife wound in right shoulder' 'malnutrition' _and the list went on. Dean looked up feeling sicker than before.

"The…erm…knife wound. How do you know that was what it was?" Dean asked, though he did not want to know really, but he thought that if something supernatural was involved, then the information would probably be relevant.

"The knife was _in _his shoulder." Dr Roberts explained with a clear look of disgust on his face.

_We are definitely in way, __**way**__ over our heads._

"How long had it…been there?" Sam asked in a small voice.

"It luckily did not seem as though the knife had been there for long, but from everything else it seemed that it had probably been going on the whole of the week that he had disappeared." Dr Roberts explained.

"Does anybody have any idea who did this to him?" Sam asked, again in that rather small voice. Dean had found that he now quite unable to utter a single syllable.

"Everything points to the father." Dr Roberts said as he again stood up from his chair. "I don't think Mal is quite ready to see anyone yet, but if you would like I could get hold of Michael and Peter so you could have a chat with them."

"That's very kind of you, Dr Roberts." Sam said as he too rose from his chair. Dean felt his brother poke him sharply and he too stood up.

He handed back the chart to Dr Roberts and thanked him.

"If it's fine with you I can just call up and maybe arrange for this afternoon." Dr Roberts said.

"That sounds great." Sam said.

Dr Roberts left the room again and Dean sank back down in the chair.

"Sam?" He whispered. When he heard Sam grunt in response he continued, "What the hell have we got ourselves into?"

"I know." Sam said quietly as he too sat back down. "We just have to think about this like any other hunt."

"That's the problem, Sam. It's not at all like any other hunt." Dean said.

"We'll figure it out; we always do." Sam said, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than his brother.

They sat in silence for a while, both trying to come to terms with what they had just found out. Dean saw Dr Roberts out of the corner of his eye and looked up when the doctor came back into the office.

"Michael and Peter will meet you outside the hospital at twelve o'clock. That's in one hour."

* * *

I hope you all liked it! Please review and tell me what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or its characters. But yippee! I do own Dr Roberts.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Many thanks to Vacant13 and exitlight for reviewing! And no, I do not have a beta reader so all mistakes are my own.

On with the story...

* * *

It was ten to twelve by the time that Sam and Dean stepped out of the Impala and walked towards the front of the hospital to wait for the two boys. They had discussed what their next step should be and had come to the conclusion that talking to Mal's two friends, Michael and Peter, would probably not be a bad idea. So here they were, standing in front of the hospital, on the lookout for two teenage boys they had never seen. 

It was Dean who saw them first. He nudged Sam and nodded in the direction of the two teenage boys coming towards them. One of the boys was of average height, a good looking boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. The other was slightly shorter with shoulder-length brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Michael Cobb; Peter Williams?" Dean said questionably as the two boys neared. They nodded and hurriedly made their way over to the two Winchesters.

"Mike." The blonde boy introduced himself and held out a hand, which Sam and Dean shook it politely.

"I'm Peter." The brown haired boy said as he too held out his hands.

"I'm Dean; this is Sam." Dean said thinking that it was probably easier if they just stayed on first name terms. "So, do you boys want to go somewhere that's not the hospital to talk?"

"Yeah." Mike said with smile and nodded his head.

The two boys led them towards the park across the street where they followed the twining paths. All four seemed reluctant to break the silence, but it did not come to Dean's great surprise that it was Sam who, in the end, was the brave one.

"So, how long have you known Mal?"

"Not that long actually." Mike said, scratching his temple lightly. "About four, five months." He looked at Peter who nodded in agreement. "He told us he moved around a lot."

"How did you meet him?" Sam asked.

"Naturally, there are some wars going on between some of us around here." Mike said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It was usually me and Peter against everybody else."

"Sounds fair." Sam said sarcastically.

"Anyway, we were having one of these…alley fights." Mike said, slamming his hands together as though to symbolise the fights.

"Alley fights?" Dean said questionably.

"Yeah. The fights usually ended up in an alley somewhere when Peter and I ran for it and forgot where we were going." Mike said in that matter-of-fact tone. "We were quite in the tight spot that day, but up pops Mal." He sighed and looked dazed for a moment as though running the memory in his mind. "He was our friend after that."

"Naturally." Peter added, nodding his head.

Dean tried hard not to laugh as the two boys suddenly reminded him of someone out of _Wayne's World_.

"Did you ever notice anything weird?" Dean asked, remembering the hospital chart he had seen earlier.

"Yeah, there were the odd bruises now and then. He usually said something like he had tripped over or walked into a door or something like that." Mike said.

"There was that one time though…" Peter said, ruffling his hair lightly.

"What one time?" Mike asked, stopping for a moment.

"That time you invited him over?" Peter said, raising his eyebrows at his friend. Mike nodded to signify that he remembered and walked on.

"What happened?" Dean urged on.

It was Peter's turn to do the storytelling.

"Mike had invited him over one evening. He looked right scared for a moment, but in the end came along. It was something like eleven at night when he looked at the clock and completely freaked. I swear I have never seen anyone run that fast in my life."

"He was scared?" Sam asked.

"Hell yeah." Peter said. "Anyway we met him the next day and saw a new bruise on his face. It wasn't too bad at all. Then the Other gang came along and it turned into another alley fight. Usually Mal didn't have a problem what so-ever. He could do moves I had never even seen before. It was a bit freaky at times. Anyway, he was suddenly on the ground coughing like mad."

"The Others said that they hadn't touched him." Mike said.

"That's when we saw the other bruises." Peter said quietly.

"I understand." Sam said. Dean knew what he was doing and was almost grateful. He did not really want to hear more about those bruises.

"What had happened in the week up until his…disappearance?" Dean asked, looking at the two teenagers.

"Nothing much out of the ordinary." Peter said.

"There was nothing about staying out a bit late or picking a fight with the wrong guy or anything like that?" Dean asked.

"No; I don't think so. I mean unless Mal went somewhere afterwards, but he usually hurried straight home." Mike said.

_Okay, I now officially have no idea what is going on._

Dean nodded, trying to look like he understood more than he did.

"Have you seen him?" Mike suddenly asked in a small voice.

Dean stopped walking and looked at him. He looked worried and scared.

"No; not yet." He said and walked on again. "Did you ever see his father?"

"Once. We had followed Mal home and he was standing in the doorway looking at us." Peter said.

They talked for another couple of minutes before Sam and Dean thanked the boys and headed back to the Impala.

"Do you still think that there is a hunt for us here or just some screwed up kids?" Dean asked his brother once they were seated in the Impala.

"I don't know, but it just seems like something is not quite right." Sam said, a worried frown appearing on his forehead.

"Really? I thought something like this happened everyday." Dean said sarcastically.

"You know what I mean." Sam snapped.

They went back to their motel room after having grabbed some lunch. Sam settled on his bed with his laptop in his lap, whereas Dean looked through their father's journal. Dean felt his mind drift off to somewhere else as he flicked through the pages of the journal. He wasn't even sure what he was really looking for or if he was even looking for anything.

They didn't hear anything from the hospital for three more days. They spent most of their time researching, but did not really come up with anything. They were both sitting with their own bit of reading material when the ringing of Sam's phone made them jump.

"Hello?" Sam said, after having stormed around the room looking for the noise maker. "Yes, that's me…We can? Thank you…we'll be there in half an hour." Sam put the phone down and looked over at Dean. "We can see Mal Johnson in half an hour."

"Let's go." Dean said without hesitation, as he jumped off the bed and started changing into his suit.

Dean looked cautiously towards the nurse's reception desk, before walking briskly over there with Sam at his side. They had both been quite worried about what they would find, but had, in the end, gathered themselves together and made their way to the hospital.

"Hello." Sam said politely when they reached the desk. It was the same grumpy looking nurse as the first time they had been there.

"Still level three." She said and pointed towards the lift and the stairs.

Sam smiled his thanks before Dean could make a rude remark. They took the stairs to level three, as they both had a slight phobia of lifts after they were stuck in one many years before. They hurried up the stairs, though Dean swore inwardly at the tightness of the suit jacket across his back.

"Dude, I hate this suit." Dean said quietly to Sam when they reached level three.

"Just go with it." Sam hissed at him as they started walking down the corridor towards the office they had talked to Dr Roberts in previously.

Dr Roberts came walking out of one of the rooms with a frown of worry on his forehead. He walked over to them and gestured them into the office. Dean wondered if he should start counting the tiles in the ceiling as this seemed to be the room he was spending most time in when he was in the hospital.

"Nurse Sampson called me a minute ago and told me you were here." Dr Roberts said when they were all seated. Sam and Dean nodded and smiled at the doctor. _Awkward_.

"How's Mal doing?" Sam asked. He seemed to be wondering, like Dean, why they were actually in the office.

"He tried to run away." Dr Roberts said.

"Oh." Was all Dean managed.

"The police have talked to him and we have had a couple of people in there already." Dr Roberts explained. "He doesn't say much, which was to be expected. So, I don't know how much you can find out by talking to him, but I can only advise you to be careful."

"We will, Dr Roberts." Sam assured him.

"We've put him in restraints for the moment as well as having him lightly sedated." Dr Roberts continued as he stood up from his chair.

"Come again." Dean said, not quite sure if he had heard correctly.

"Oh, the sedation only makes it harder for him to become too agitated and move around too much." Dr Roberts said, unknown to him that Dean had meant the restraints, and not the sedation. "If you'll follow me I'll take you to him."

Sam and Dean rose from their chairs and followed the doctor out of the office. Dean could sense Sam's eyes on him, but ignored it. They were shown to the room they had seen Dr Roberts walk out of when they arrived. Dr Roberts told them they could go in, though both Winchesters were grateful that the doctor stayed outside.

Dean led the way into the room to find the teenage boy he had seen the photograph of, lying in a hospital bed, with restraints around his wrists and ankles. _Oh yeah, that's definitely the way for him to gain trust_, Dean thought. There were various monitors around the bed and an IV stand. The boy had various needles poking out from his hands, and looked more fragile than Dean had ever seen a boy his age before. Dean looked at his face again and saw fading purple, blue and green bruises along his jaw lines. His eyes were open, but stared straight at the ceiling, thought it did not seem as though they took anything in. His dark hair was a messier mob than Sam's had ever been.

Both Winchesters took a seat next to the bed, though Mal still had not shown any sign of acknowledging their presence.

"Mr Johnson?" Sam said quietly.

No response.

Sam tried again, but still nothing happened.

"Mal?" Dean said questionably. He looked at the boy's eyes and saw something flicker in them. Recognition? "I'm Dean, this is Sam." Dean hadn't even noticed that Mal's eyes had moved but when he looked again, his eyes were resting on the two Winchesters.

"Police?" Mal whispered questionably in a raspy voice. "Social workers?"

"No," Dean looked over at Sam for a moment, unsure whether or not to lie to the boy, though Sam merely lifted his eyebrows, "we are from Child Welfare."

He thought it was probably better to lie in case Dr Roberts was listening in on the conversation. Mal grunted and smiled, though the smile showed no trace of happiness, only defeat.

"You are, Mal Johnson, right?" Dean asked the boy. Again there was no answer, the boy merely returned his gaze to the ceiling.

"How old are you, Mal?" Sam asked.

Mal shot him a look that clearly said that he knew that Sam knew well enough already, though he said, "Sixteen."

"Do you live with your father?" Sam pressed on. _Sam, watch it._

"Yes." Mal said quietly.

"Are your parents divorced?" Sam said. His voice did not sound harsh, but Dean could see the boy on the bed in front of them was taking it harder than intended.

"Don't know." Mal said simply, though Dean could see his jaw working as he gritted his teeth.

"Where's your mother?" _Sam, I'm serious; watch it!_

"Don't know." Mal said again. They were clearly touching on something which the boy was not keen to talk about.

"Sam, can I talk to you for a minute?" Sam looked slightly confused at Dean's words, but he got up from his chair and walked with Dean into the corner furthest away from the bed. "Sam, what the hell are you doing?"

Even though Dean's voice was hushed, the anger still seeped through the words.

"Dean, I know that all of this is quite a touchy matter, but I don't see we have much of a choice." Sam hissed back.

"Just watch it a bit, okay?" Dean whispered back.

"Okay." Sam promised and they returned to their seats next to the bed.

"Mal?" Dean said as he watched the boy's eyes start to close. They flickered open immediately and looked round at Dean.

"Yeah?" He said quietly when Dean didn't continue.

"Did your father do this to you?" Sam asked. _Oh way to go, Sammy! That's definitely watching it. NOT!_

Mal's eyes seemed to glaze over and if Dean had not known otherwise he would have thought the boy was dead. This was definitely not what Mal wanted to talk about, that was quite clear.

"Mal?" Dean whispered again, trying to bring the boy out from his current state. "You don't have to say anything; just nod or shake your head, or blink twice for yes."

Dean's eyes moved to Mal's hands and noticed that his fingers were clawing into the covers. He looked back at the boy's face and saw that he was looking at him again. Dean looked into the eyes greenish-blue depths until Mal blinked once, and then twice.

"We talked to your friends a couple of days ago." Dean said, wanting to divert the boy's thoughts slightly now that they knew for certain who was responsible for his condition. "They seemed pretty worried about you."

"They always worried too much." Mal said, returning his gaze to the ceiling.

"What's your favourite colour?" Dean asked.

"Excuse me?" Mal said, looking rather confused as he looked back at Dean.

"What's your favourite colour?" Dean repeated.

"I don't know." Mal said in an almost offended tone of voice.

"Fine. Favourite type of car?" Dean asked. He had no idea what he was really doing, but if it could get the boy to relax a bit, then it didn't really matter if what he said made a lot of sense.

"I don't know." Mal said again.

_Okay, this is a little harder than I thought._

"I'm afraid we have got to take out leave." Sam said and rose from his chair. As soon as he stood, Dean noticed that Mal's jaw tightened again and he seemed to push himself further into the pillows as though to try and get away somehow.

"Nice talking to you." Dean said as he too stood and followed Sam towards the door.

"Watch out for Mike and Peter." Mal's voice said behind them.

"They are fine, Mal. They are just worried." Dean said after having turned around again to look at Mal.

"Just, look out for them." Mal said, his voice a little quieter than before.

The two Winchesters walked out of the hospital some ten minutes later and headed for the Impala.

"I don't know if this really is something for us." Sam said as Dean turned on the engine.

"And I was just about to say that something is definitely not right here." Dean said as he drove away from the hospital.

"You think we should keep on this?" Sam asked.

"Definitely." Dean said, not sure if it was a good idea or not. "Dude, why the hell did they put restraints on him?"

"I don't know." Sam sighed. "You know Dr Roberts said he had tried to run away? Well, maybe he is just worried that it will happen again."

"I still don't think that's an excuse. I mean, he can't exactly get far if he had been tied down for a week, can he?" Dean said as he pulled into the motel parking area.

"Quite true." Sam said, stepping out of the car.

Dean also got out and headed for the motel room.

A couple of hours later both boys were getting ready to hit the covers, when Sam's phone rang. Sam looked slightly taken aback, but answered it nonetheless.

"Hello? Dr Roberts…what? Are you sure? Yes of course." Sam put down the phone and looked like Christmas had been cancelled.

"What?"

"Mal's gone."

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Reviews are always greatly appreciated! 

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters, but i do own the characters Mal, Mike, Peter and Dr Roberts.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four then...

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The Impala was speeding faster than ever down the streets while its occupants kept a close lookout for a sixteen year old hospital escapee. They did not know if they would have any luck, but they also knew that they had to try. Sam had been quite distressed, by the looks of it, when Dr Roberts had called and told him that Mal had run away from the hospital. No one had any idea how it had happened as the restraints had been left on him, as the hospital staff had learnt from the boy's last escape attempt. Dean had not been quite what he was feeling. It was strange; almost like he had felt a wave of anger mixed with worry rush through him, if only for a second.

So far neither Winchester had seen any sign of the boy, but they kept driving – kept looking – refusing to give up. They parked by alleys to see if any living soul should be hiding in any dark corner or behind dustbins, but they had had no luck. They had argued about him returning to his house, but after little discussion they had decided to at least go there and see if they could find anything. Sam had got hold of the address earlier on so it was easy enough for them to get to the deserted house. Dean had dared to ask Sam at one point if he was sure that the father was not there, but one glare had been enough for Dean to realise the stupidity of his question.

Once they arrived at the house and picked the lock open, they looked through the few rooms – even the basement, which Dean quickly left as the smell of stale blood still lingered in the room. Dean swore loudly when they got to a bedroom where a window was open out to the cool night air. Drawers were open and there were footsteps across the dusty floor. Mal seemed to had been here to pick up some stuff, before leaving again in a hurry.

"Where now?" Dean asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don't know." Sam said, looking as defeated as Dean felt. "Where do you think he would have gone?"

"He probably wouldn't have gone to his friends' house as they would most likely send him right back to hospital – and he would know that." Dean reasoned. He didn't know if his beliefs were correct, but they were simple gut feelings.

"Come on." Sam said, as he headed back out of the room.

Dean took a glance out of the window, but it showed him nothing. He cursed again and followed his brother.

Dean started to feel like the driving was completely pointless. They drove past a big field with long swaying grass before nearing a small woodland with towering dark fir trees. Sam told Dean to stop the car and Dean thought that it was probably better to oblige to Sam's order.

"Dude, please don't tell me we're going in there?" Dean said, eyeing the dark forest with suspicion.

Five minutes later they were walking along a narrow, dark, winding path, both with a torch illuminating the path and trees directly in front of them and around them. The torches seemed to only make the trees seem taller and more fearful. Dean shook his head to clear it of such thoughts and instead tried to focus his eyes and ears on the smallest movements and noises.

"Sam?" He said questionably.

"Yeah?" His brother answered vacantly.

"Don't get mad, but…how do you think he would have got himself all the way out here?" Dean asked the question that had been bugging him for a while now.

"I don't know." Sam asked, shining some light into the trees to his left. "I just thought we should, you know, check it out."

Dean looked up at his brother and found Sam looking at him.

"What?"

"Nothing." Sam said, though a hint of a smile appeared on his face. They both looked forwards and saw the path splitting into two in front of them. "Split up?"

"I _hate_ this." Dean said as he pulled his jacket a little closer around himself and took the path going to the right.

"Call if you find anything." Sam said to him as he turned off to the left.

"What? You want me to do a Tarzan yell?" Dean joked, flashing a smile.

"Ha ha, very funny." Sam said, though Dean could hear the smile in his voice as he turned his back to Dean and walked off.

Trees could be incredibly annoying, Dean found out, as they constantly cast fake shadows from the torch's light. It was incredible hard to try and make anything out as every time he thought he saw something, it was simply a weird shaped tree stump. He was just about to give up when he heard raspy breathing from somewhere to his right. He stopped for a few seconds to make sure that it was not just the cool night wind in the leaves overhead before walking off the path towards the sound. He walked slightly slower than before, desperate not to miss anything now that he finally felt that their hours of looking were finally going somewhere. He moved around a bush and saw the cause of their midnight stroll, leaning against a tree trunk. Dean hurriedly took out his phone and called his brother.

"Sam? I found him." Dean quickly gave rough directions to where they were and hung up the phone.

Dean walked carefully forwards and crouched down next to the boy. Mal's eyes were closed and he seemed to be breathing with some difficulty. He had not acknowledged Dean's presence, but when Den looked a little closer he saw that the boy was shivering and his face slowly turning a pale blue. Dean quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it tenderly around Mal's shoulders. Mal suddenly drew a sharp breath and tried to shy away from the contact, but it only caused him to fall to the ground. Dean caught him before he hit the soil and lifted him up into his arms, just as Sam came running behind him.

"Come on, we've got to get back to the car." Dean said as he started walking back down the path, back the way they came, trying to ignore how light the boy was.

Sam nodded, picked up the rucksack that had been lying next to Mal, and they hurried back towards the car. Mal mumbled something inaudible a couple of times, but neither Sam nor Dean thought that now was the best time to talk. Once they reached the Impala, Dean manoeuvred himself and Mal onto the back seat. He rummaged in the jacket pockets and pulled out the car keys which he tossed to Sam.

"Go to the motel." Dean ordered as Sam got into the driver's seat and turned on the engine.

"Dean…" Sam started.

"Just do it, Sam!" Dean snapped at him before turning his attention back to the teenage boy who was slumped in the seat beside him. He had not wanted to snap at Sam, and knew that he would have to apologise for it later, but now was simply not the time to argue.

He put a hand on Mal's forehead. _Yep, definitely running on a high fever._ However, even though Mal's forehead was burning, the rest of him was shivering with cold. Dean tucked his jacket around him tighter, hoping that it would offer the teenager at least a bit of warmth.

"Here." Sam said and he handed Dean his own jacket, who offered a quick thanks before wrapping this too around the boy.

Mal's eyes did not open once on the whole journey back to the motel, but instead continued to shiver. Dean put a hand on his chest to steady him when it looked as if he was going to tip forwards. He drew it back quickly when he felt something warm, wet and sticky against it. Blood.

"Drive faster, Sam." Dean said, knowing that there was nothing he could do right now. Sam urged the Impala to increase its speed and it roared in consent.

The car screeched to a halt outside their motel room. Sam was the first out of the car and helped Dean to move Mal out. Dean carried Mal's limp body into the room and laid him down on his bed.

"Sam, get me the First Aid Kit, will you?" Dean asked as he removed Mal's jumper and t-shirt carefully. The fronts of both items were stained with wet blood.

It was the knife wound in Mal's right shoulder that was making trouble. Dean had momentarily forgotten about the individual injuries, but now at least understood a bit more of what was going on. Sam returned with the First Aid Kit and looked mildly shocked at the sight of the injury.

"It shouldn't be that bad," he said, "not after that amount of time."

"Well, maybe the wound was not only a knife wound." Dean said as he leaned a little closer to look at the wound that was stained with dry blood, pus, dirt and material from the t-shirt. "We need something to clean this with – disinfect it."

Sam looked through their box of medical supplies, but found nothing.

"Spirits?" Sam suggested.

Dean nodded and Sam came back a moment later with alcohol.

"This is going to hurt like hell." Dean warned the still form on the bed, but when he received no reaction he quickly poured some of the contents in the flask over the wound.

Mal shouted out and Sam had to rush to Dean's side to keep the boy still. Mal struggled feebly and started mumbling constantly, but still inaudibly. Sam helped Dean clean and bandage the wound, before sliding off Mal's shoes and tucking him under the covers in the bed.

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Please review! Good or bad...

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters, only the character of Mal.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for your awesome reviews. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update, but I've been busy with college. I promise that I will get the next chapter out quicker (I have got about a total of fourteen hours of free time at college this week, so I should find time to write). If you still want to read this story, then off you go...

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Dean sat on the rather hard motel chair watching the sleeping form of the teenage boy on the bed in front of him. He had insisted that Sam got some sleep once Mal had been patched up. It had taken some quiet arguing, but his brother had agreed in the end. Dean had draped Mal in a couple of blankets from the trunk of the Impala and had even put his own jacket over the boy's chest, to try and bring him some warmth, as the motel room was not exactly five stars. 

The elder Winchester brother found himself dozing off for a couple of minutes occasionally, but never more than that at a time. He wanted to be sure that he was there once Mal woke up, just in case a big showdown was going to happen. He hoped it wouldn't be the case, but at the same time found it hard to believe that things could simply have a happy ending; Dean had found that they rarely did. He rubbed his eyes, trying to make himself slightly more awake. It didn't really work, but at least he could keep his eyes open for a bit longer now.

The previously still form of the teenager stirred. Dean looked up immediately, getting ready to start explaining. He watched as the boy's eyes flickered slowly open and searched the room. They didn't really seem to settle anywhere, but instead slipped shut again.

"Hey." Dean said quietly, as he moved over to the side of the bed.

Mal's eyes opened again and rested on Dean's face, not really anywhere specific. Again Dean got the feeling that the boy's eyes did not really take anything in that was right in front of him. It was almost like he was somewhere else. Mal tried to move his body, but a breath suddenly caught in his throat, causing him to cough and gag. Dean moved quickly to get hold of a cup of water. He didn't know if this would ease the boy's troubles, but all thinks considered, it could hardly make it any worse.

"Mal?" Dean tried, standing awkwardly beside the bed, not quite sure how to approach this. He saw Sam sitting up in the bed out of the corner of his eye, no doubt woken by all the racket.

"Dean?" Sam said, his voice still slightly groggy from sleep.

Dean ignored him for the time being and instead, tried putting a hand on Mal's shoulder as though to steady him. The reaction was faster than what Dean would have thought possible with Mal's condition. Though he was still coughing in between wheezy breaths, Mal managed to throw his weight away from the touch; avoiding it. Mal was now on his right side, his body jerking unevenly with each breath.

Sam was standing beside him now; Dean feeling his presence before seeing him.

"Could use some help here?" Dean admitted as he gestured towards the body on the bed.

Sam nodded and moved cautiously closer towards the bed. He carefully put a hand on Mal's shoulder, and though the boy tried to shy away from the touch, Sam held on gently but firmly. He turned him around slowly; putting his other hand on Mal's back, raising him slightly from the bed. Dean saw the boy struggle feebly against the hands holding him and almost told Sam to let go, but he knew that it was important to get Mal to drink something. He had no idea how long ago it had been since he last had drunk anything. Dean gently cooped his hand around the boy's jaw, causing him to once more draw in a sharp, shaky breath. Dean noticed that Mal's hands were shaking lightly, though otherwise he was completely still. Dean managed to get him to drink a little before allowing Sam to lower him down on the bed again.

"What now?" Sam asked.

Dean looked over at his brother and saw that he looked as lost as Dean felt. _Well, that makes things so much easier_.

"I don't know." Dean admitted quietly.

"Why exactly was it you wanted to take him here instead of the hospital?" Sam enquired as he moved over to sit on his bed, resting his head in his hands.

"Just a gut feeling." Dean said, not quite sure how to explain what he had felt. "It just didn't feel like the right thing to do was to take him back to that hospital."

"Was it the restraints?" Sam said, looking back up at his brother.

"Among other things." Dean said, settling himself back into the chair.

Sam sighed and stood up again.

"I suppose I could go and get breakfast." He said, as he grabbed his bag and headed into the bathroom.

Dean listened to his brother getting ready in the bathroom, while he watched the child in front of him. Why had he taken him here? He didn't even know himself. Did he really think that he could do something to help the boy that people at the hospital could not? _Well, if something supernatural is involved, then at least it is easier this way._

"Will you be alright?" Sam asked as Dean chucked him the keys to the Impala.

"I've dealt with worse." Dean chuckled.

Sam smiled before walking out of the motel room, closing the door quietly behind him. Dean sighed and stretched in the chair. He looked around the room for a while, trying to see if anything could catch his eye and distract him. No such luck. He retorted to make some strange, but somewhat humorous noises. He quickly grew tired of this and instead returned his gaze to the teenager. To his surprise he saw the boy's lips were moving and he was mumbling something inaudible. Dean quickly got up and moved over to the bedside. He leaned closer to the boy, trying to make sense of what was plaguing the boy in his sleep.

"…no…please…no…don't…" The words that escaped the boy's mouth did not make much sense in context, but Dean realised immediately what nightmares was cutting into the boy's mind.

"Mal?" Dean said softly, putting a hand gently on the child's left shoulder. A gasp instantly escaped from the boy and he started shaking once more. "It's alright; he's not here." Dean continued to talk quietly and softly, intent on bringing the boy out of his current state. A silent tear slid down the boy's face, followed by another and another. "Shh." Dean cooed softly, as he started running his fingers through the messy dark hair, remembering that this was something that had calmed his brother when he was younger. He was content in seeing that at least the boy's convulsive movements decreased and his breathing became less laboured.

Dean continued this act until the boy fell back into what seemed to be a more restful sleep. _What would they have done at the hospital?_ Dean pondered, as he looked at the child's tear streaked face. _Probably just pumped him full of sedative._ Dean looked round as Sam came back into the motel room.

"Coffee and rolls." Sam informed him as he handed Dean the paper bags he was carrying.

"No doughnuts?" Dean joked.

"No doughnuts." Sam chuckled. He took a closer look at Dean. _God, I hate it when he does that_. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, he just had a nightmare…he's okay now." Dean explained, not really wanting to go into too much detail.

Dean took a sip from his coffee, savouring the taste for a moment. Sometimes he just loved his brother.

"Do you think we should change his bandage?" Sam asked as they finished their breakfast.

"Probably a good idea." Dean agreed as he got up from his chair and walked back towards the bed.

Dean pulled off the jackets and slid the cover gently away from the boy's shoulders, all the while trying to ignore the many bruises covering the bare chest. He tenderly removed the dressing they had put on the wound the night before.

"Doesn't look too bad." He said as Sam came over beside him.

Sam muttered something and carefully prodded around the wound.

"Ouch."

The voice made both brothers jump. Both had been so intense in their job that they had not noticed Mal's eyes flicker open. Dean couldn't help but smile slightly.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked, not quite sure if this question was appropriate or not. However, the boy had sounded so normal, but then again how much could be judged from one moan of pain.

"Where am I?" The boy's voice was hoarse and almost too quiet to be heard.

"About five minutes from the hospital in a motel room." Sam said quietly.

"How far did I get?" Still that quiet hoarse voice. _Maybe he's just thirsty. Yep, I'm sure all of his problems will be solved with a glass of water, Dean! You idiot…_

"Not very far." Dean chuckled. "To some woodland, that direction." Dean continued, throwing his hand in the general direction of the woodland.

"I've seen you before." Mal whispered before closing his eyes again for a second, taking a deep breath, though Dean now noticed that his breathing was rapid.

"We were at the hospital. We're from Child –" Sam began, but Mal cut him off.

"Child Welfare my ass." He said, looking up at Sam. The look was daring; not cold, not angry, just hopeless, as though he was saying, "Just give me your best shot." _Oh dear_.

If they had had time to talk things over before, the Winchester brothers would probably had had time to rehearse their story a little bit, maybe making it sound more convincing. Though, Dean did not find that lying to the boy made him trust them more.

"I'm Dean; this is my brother, Sam." Dean informed Mal, whom Dean wasn't sure had heard as his eyes had slid closed once more, though it now seemed that he again had fallen asleep.

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Please take time to just drop in a little tweensy review. 

Disclaimer: For the fifth time: I do not own Supernatural or its characters, but I do own the character of Mal Johnson.


	6. Chapter 6

The next couple of hours were spent with Sam running errands or doing research, and Dean sitting in the chair, flicking through their father's journal while keeping an eye on Mal's still form on the bed. He had barely moved since the morning when he had woken, and Dean was getting worried. He could sense that his brother felt the same way, though neither of them spoke of their feelings or much of anything else; both were lost in their own procedure of finding something that could help them with what was going on.

"Do you think his father could be possessed by a demon?" Sam's voice broke through the previous silence.

"Over a course of sixteen years?" Dean said questionably, though wanting his tone of voice to let Sam know that he did not believe it himself.

"We don't know how long all of this has been going on, Dean." Sam said truthfully. "We will most likely just have to question him a little once he wakes up." Sam continued and gestured towards Mal.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's on his list of favourite topics to discuss." Dean said sarcastically, turning a page in the journal.

"He was quite co-operative in the hospital." Sam reasoned.

"I'm sure the restraints and sedative had nothing to do with that." Dean answered, still in his sarcastic tone of voice.

"No need to be sarcastic, Dean." Sam said, running a hand through his hair. "I don't really feel like we're getting anywhere, that's all."

"Well, we are still waiting for Mr Sunshine here to wake; there might be some progress after that." Dean said.

"Do you still think that it was a good idea to bring him here instead of to the hospital?" Sam asked quietly, keeping his eyes locked on the laptop screen.

"I asked myself that very same question this morning, Sam." Dean said, thinking back to the moment that he had calmed the boy down from his nightmare. "It could just be because I don't have much trust left over for hospitals, but I have a feeling that restraints and good doses of sedative would have been on the menu for our boy here."

"Or maybe they could help him." Sam pressed on.

"Maybe we can too." Dean said, unwilling to let Sam win this argument.

"Alright, but don't come crying to me when this don't go as you planned." Sam chuckled.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"When does it ever go as planned?" Dean asked him with a smile on his face.

"Good point." Sam said, again with a soft chuckle.

They sat in silence for a while again, both lost in their own thoughts. It was sometime later, Dean was not sure how long, that Sam said he'd go and get them some lunch.

"And we will have to wake him up and get him to eat something." Sam said before shutting the motel door.

Dean smiled with content as he heard the Impala's engine roar to life. _Nothing beats that sound_. Dean looked up again when he heard movements on the bed. _Funny. It always seems to happen as soon as Sam leaves the room_. Dean stood up and walked on stiff legs towards the side of the bed. Dean was shocked to see that the boy's face was slowly turning a shade of green, and that his entire body was sweaty and had started to shake once more.

"Mal." Dean tried quietly to rouse the boy. He put his hand gently on Mal's shoulder and shook him lightly. The convulsive movements did not seize, but Dean saw that the boy's eyelids slowly slid open.

"Bathroom." Dean heard the voice, though it was barely audible due to its violent shaking and low volume.

Dean, however, wasted no time in hoisting the boy carefully off the bed and steered him towards the bathroom, all the way trying hard to ignore the weak attempts the child made to free him of the hands holding him. He was indeed hard to keep upright as his legs shook with such violent force, but at the same time weighed so little, so he at least was easy enough to half-carry towards the bathroom.

Once inside the room, the boy dropped to his knees by the toilet and started retching violently. Dean held Mal's shoulders supportively the whole way through the ordeal. At least he was a big brother and had taken care of Sam when his brother was little.

When Mal finally finished, the shaking did not stop, though it had decreased slightly. However, the boy seemed to had lost the little strength he had left and started sliding towards the floor. Dean caught him and popped his back against the bathtub. He flushed the toilet and hurried out of the bathroom, grabbed a water bottle and almost ran back into the bathroom. Mal was still sprawled on the floor, back against the tub, breathing heavily, though still shaking. His eyes were closed, but Dean did not think him to be asleep.

"Mal? Mal, do you think you could drink this?" Dean asked quietly as he sank down on the floor next to the boy. Mal drew in a sharp breath, and Dean noticed that his breathing rate had increased. _What the hell happened down in that cellar?_ "It's only water. Come on."

Dean held the bottle closer to Mal's dry lips, trying to encourage the boy to drink for himself. No such luck. Instead Dean gently used the hand that was not holding the bottle, to take a hold on the boy's jaw, gently lifting his head a bit and managed to pour some water into the boy's mouth. The first mouthful merely ran out the corners of Mal's mouth, but Dean finally got him to swallow. At least that got a reaction. Mal immediately started coughing. Dean helped him to lean forwards slightly, all the while rubbing smooth, calming circles on the boy's back. The coughing fit seized and Dean gently leant him back against the tub.

"Here." Dean said, holding the water once more to the boy's lips. This time the head turned away and Mal muttered something inaudible. Dean took a gentle hold on Mal's jaw again and forced some of the water down the boy's throat. This time the boy managed to swallow without a major coughing fit. "Better?" Dean asked when he saw Mal start to breathe easier. Mal nodded but did not say anything.

Dean heard the motel room door open and close.

"Dean?" Sam's voice called.

"In here." Dean answered.

Sam appeared in the doorway of the bathroom and a look of worry showed on his face.

"What happened?" He asked, as he too crouched down on the floor.

"He was feeling a bit sick." Dean said, trying to keep his voice as soft and calm as possible. "Look, Sam, could you get a shirt or something from his bag? He's getting rather cold."

"Sure." Sam said and immediately stood up and walked out of the bathroom. Dean could hear him rummaging through Mal's bag and returned a moment later with a black t-shirt. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Dean said as he took the item from Sam.

Sam helped his brother get the t-shirt on the boy before standing up and leaning against the doorframe.

"What now?" Sam asked.

Dean looked up at his brother and saw him eyeing him and the boy.

"Just give him a minute." Dean said, unwilling to simply drag the boy back on the bed.

Sam nodded and left the bathroom. Dean sat there, on the floor in the bathroom, for a good five minutes before anything happened. It was Mal's groan that caused him to look across at the boy. Mal's eyes opened slowly and Dean was glad to see that they looked clearer than they had done the last time he had opened them.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked quietly. The boy's body jerked slightly at the sound of Dean's voice, but he shook his had lightly and looked up at Dean.

"Like I've been run over by a steam train." Mal said, his voice once again hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

"That's understandable." Dean chuckled.

"Who are you?" Mal asked, and looked at Dean as though looking at him for the first time, though a hint of recognition flared in his eyes. "And don't you dare say Child Welfare."

"I'm Dean, and out there is my brother, Sam." Dean said. _No lies and I did not tell him more than I needed to either._

Mal nodded and looked around the room for a second. His face suddenly screwed up in pain and he hunched over with a groan.

"Mal? Mal, what is it?" Dean asked, sounding a little more desperate than he intended.

"Hurts." Mal groaned quietly. Sam appeared in the doorway again, no doubt having heard the groans from inside the bathroom.

"Where? Mal, where does it hurt?" Dean pressed on.

"Everywhere." Mal moaned.

"Alright, come on, we'll get you back in the bed." Dean said and Sam rushed forwards to help.

"No! No, wait. It will pass…it will pass. It always does." Mal said desperately.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked before thinking, though Mal did not answer him.

Even though it felt like hours it was no more than a couple of minutes that they sat hunched up on the floor. Mal finally raised his head again, his eyes glistening with tears. He lifted a shaking arm slowly and with what seemed to be with difficulty, and dried his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked and Dean could hear the concern in his voice.

Mal nodded and tried to push himself off the floor, but it only resulted in him almost crashing back on the floor had Sam and Dean not caught him. Again there was that sharp intake of breath and feeble attempts to fight them off, but the two Winchesters held on. The two brothers managed to steer him into the other room and sat him down on one of the beds. As soon as their hands let him go, his breathing seemed to come under more control. Dean sat back in his chair and Sam on the other bed.

Dean eyed Mal as Sam hurried to get out the lunch he had picked up. The boy's head was hanging low against his chest, allowing his long messy hair to conceal parts of his face. Sam handed each of them a paper bag, though Mal slowly shook his head.

"When was the last time you ate?" Dean asked as he took out his own cheeseburger.

"Don't know." Mal said quietly. _Oh great, so we're back at that stage_.

"Can't you remember?" Dean asked and took a mouthful of his burger.

"How long was I in the hospital?" Mal asked, looking up at them.

"About a week." Sam said.

Mal nodded again.

"And…er…how long was I…was I in the…in the cellar?" Mal dropped his head again.

"Also about a week." Dean said, eyeing the boy carefully.

"Two weeks then." Mal said, still with his head hanging low against his chest.

"What, didn't they feed you at the hospital?" Dean blurted out in disbelief.

"Oh they _fed_ me alright." Mal sneered. "Your question was when the last time _I_ ate. Out of own free will would be about two weeks then.

Mal fell silent again and looked exhausted.

"You need to eat something." Sam said quietly, pushing the paper bag towards Mal once. Mal looked up at Sam, though Dean could not quite make out the boy's expression. He looked like he was ready to protest, but his eyes suddenly glazed over and he lifted a hand slowly towards the paper bag.

_Something is seriously wrong here, but I'll deal with that later. As long as he eats for now, then the rest will come later._


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Can't really say anything except I'm really sorry about the mega wait there was on this chapter. For those few ("oh those fortunate few") readers there are: thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I hope the long wait and this ridiculously short chapter haven't put you off. Anyway, enough of my blabbering...

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Mal grabbed hold of the paper bag, doing everything he could to keep his breathing under control. He had to admit that the two men from…well, wherever they came from, had not looked like they would actually threaten him to do something and go ahead with it, but the time with his father and at the hospital had filled him with doubt. He was not sure of the extent these two would go to if he did not cooperate, but the thought of restraints, knives and sedation kept him from defying them. He was far from hungry and the smell form the food itself made his stomach churn.

He slowly picked at the bread, ignoring the two pairs of eyes he could feel on him. He could feel his heart hammering hard against his chest. He was afraid; no, not just afraid…terrified. He still felt terrible from what he had had to do to get free of the restraints and out of the hospital. His arms felt like lumps of non-responsive meat at times, and his head ached even from the smallest amount of exercise. What scared him though, was the thought of what would happen if they found out about him. They would most likely think that either they or he were completely and utterly insane.

The bread felt so harsh against his throat and it seemed a lifetime ago since he had actually eaten out of his own free will, that he felt slightly bewildered on how to do it. He refused to look up, sure that if he did he would see the others' gaze on him. They worried him. Of course he was relieved that he was not in hospital but he could not figure out what their interest was in him. _Unless…_He swallowed hard, not wanting to even process the thought going through his mind. He had known from the moment they walked into his room at the hospital that they were not from Child Welfare. His subconscious told him that he had played along out of pure fear, but he refused to listen to it. Fear was wrong. He did not want to feel fear, but it was always with him, like an unshakeable shadow.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the ringing of a phone. He closed his eyes momentarily trying to block the memories forcing their way into his mind, fighting to resurface. He felt his hands shaking and looked down at his wrists, still tightly wrapped in bandages. He felt sick again as he forcibly pushed the memory out of his mind. He did not want to hear the voice of his father or the whoosh of air before…before the inevitable happened.

He shakily raised his head to look at the youngest of the men who had fished out a phone and was looking at it sceptically.

"Hello?" The man answered the phone, though Mal allowed his eyes to slip shut again as he tried to force away the voice that had started to creep into his conscience. "Mal Johnson?" Mal's eyes snapped open again at the mention of the name. He looked at the man holding the phone, not really seeing him, a million thoughts and memories flooding his brain. The man looked at the other for a second who cast a quick glance at Mal before looking intently at the younger. "No…we did not find any sign of him."

Mal let his mind wash out the rest of the conversation. He did not want to hear anything; he did not want to think about anything at all for that matter. If he could just shut himself inside some dark place in his mind, maybe all the thoughts and memories would just go away. They were right at the surface, fighting to break free, though he used as much energy as he could to push them away.

"Dr Roberts asked to meet me at the hospital." The voice of the younger of the men brought his mind back to reality for a moment.

"Why am I here?" He had not meant to ask out loud, and Mal immediately gulped in great mouthfuls of air, looking up at the two men who now stood before him, quite close to the motel room door.

"Do you mean opposed to the hospital?" The younger and taller of the two asked. Mal reluctantly nodded, inwardly cringing at his own stupidity for having voiced the question out loud. "Dean thought it better to bring you here."

Mal closed his eyes again and nodded. So the shorter one, Dean, was the one who had decided upon bringing him here instead of to the hospital, though it was the other who was going to see Dr Roberts? This did not make a world of sense to Mal, but arguing was something he had learnt long ago earned you fist-face connection.

He jumped slightly when he heard a door close. He looked up slowly, the room swimming slightly before his eyes. The older…Dean…was looking at him. _Please stop the creepy gazing,_ Mal thought desperately, feeling his heart beating rapidly again.

"You look about ready to drop." Dean said, walking forwards, sitting down once more on the chair. Mal was not quite sure how to respond or if he was even meant to. "Do you mind if I take a look at all of your…well, injuries?"

Was this some kind of trick question? What if he answered wrongly? He did not for the life of him want anyone near him, but he had a feeling that that would be the wrong answer. He bit down on his lower lip, shaking his head mutely from side to side.

"Do you want to sit or lie down?" The voice sounded from faraway, but still brought Mal slightly back to his senses.

"Sit." He was rather surprised to find his voice sounding so hoarse.

"Do you think you could lift your shirt up for me so I can have a look at your shoulder?" Dean asked as he moved forwards.

_Oh no, not this…please not this_, Mal thought desperately as he tried to lift up the shirt. A searing pain raced through his shoulder and arms causing him to grind his teeth tightly together so no sound would escape. The other must have noticed, however, because his shirt was gently lifted up for him. He did not protest; the pain still too apparent.

Mal did the best he could to close his mind off completely. He could almost hear what the man…Dean…was saying, but he refused to let his mind register anything.

* * *

Dean rested back into the chair an hour or so after he had taken care of the boy's wounds. He had got Mal to drink something and the boy was now asleep again on the bed. Dean felt a pang of worry for his brother and hoped that everything was going okay. Sam had looked lost in thought after he had spoken to the doctor, and Dean was starting to wonder what was taking so long.

Dean gazed at the sleeping form on the bed. The vacant look the boy carried around with was scaring Dean slightly. It was as though he was creating a little world for himself, shutting out everything around him in the process. Dean wanted to pull himself together and think about this like any other job, but he could not deny that this was different; harder. It was a long time ago that he had actually felt that he was unsure of what to do. The last time he could think of was the last time he and his brother had been in Lawrence.

The motel door shut with a sharp slam, though not loud enough to wake the boy on the bed. Dean looked round and had to do a double take. Sam looked positively fuming and terrified at the same time. He was holding a gun in one hand and a bottle of holy water in the other.

"Now, just wait a minute." Dean warned as he rose from his seat as Sam raised the gun and pointed it at Mal. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I talked to Dr Roberts, Dean." Sam said calmly, though Dean could see a vein pulsing dangerously in his neck. "I saw the records…and the blood tests they did on Mal the last day that he was there. Apparently the others had mysteriously disappeared the last time Mal tried to escape. Dr Roberts called me because he could not make head or tail out of the blood tests."

"Sam? What are you telling me?" Dean asked, looking intently at his brother.

"He is not human, Dean."

* * *

Please review and let me know if there are still any readers out there! I'll try and get the next chapter out quicker.

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or its characters, but Mal is all my creation (talk about a twisted mind...)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks so much to Pikouaencore and rholou for reviewing! I wanted to get this chapter out quickly, hence the short length. I rpomise I'll try to make the next one longer!

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters, but Mal is all mine.

* * *

Dean looked at Sam, wondering if he was hearing him right.

"Just hang on a minute." Dean said, stepping between his brother and Mal. "What are you saying?"

"I saw the blood tests, Dean." Sam said, his gun still pointing towards the bed.

"And?"

"I told you: he is not human." Sam hissed.

"Look, I get that, princess, but what is he then?" Dean asked. Sam suddenly looked exhausted and he merely shook his head. "Was there sulphur in his blood?"

"I don't know." Sam said quietly, lowering the gun slightly.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Dean questioned, raising his eyebrows slightly at his brother.

"I don't know!" Sam repeated, louder this time.

"Are you sure it's him? I mean there aren't any mistakes…or…?" Dean rambled.

"Dean, you were the one who said there was a job here, and now that we know for sure that there is, you're trying to make excuses?" Sam kept his voice low, but Dean could hear the slight frustration seeping into his voice. Dean was not sure what he was feeling. He knew that Sam was right but at the same time did not want there to be anymore wrong with the boy than there already was.

"I know, but we can't just kill him." Dean reasoned.

"Yeah, I know that." Sam said, though when Dean again raised his eyebrows at him and looked at the gun, Sam continued. "I was afraid that he was going to kill you. I hurried here as fast as I could."

"We were fine." Dean said, trying to push the image of Mal's ashen face out of his mind. "How do you suggest we test if he is a demon or not?"

"Holy water?" Sam suggested.

"I'm sure it would go down really well if we threw some water at him." Dean said sarcastically.

"Very funny, Dean." Sam sighed. "We could just get him to drink some."

"It's hard enough to get him to drink anything as it is." Dean said truthfully, remembering the reluctance in Mal's movements as he took the flask Dean had offered him earlier.

"So what do you suggest?" Sam asked, annoyance evident in his voice.

"We could just ask him." Dean said, cursing himself for how lame that sounded.

"Yeah, because that would go down so well." Sam said sarcastically with a chuckle. "Let's just try to slip him some holy water when he wakes up, and we'll see what happens."

"Yippee." Dean sighed deeply, feeling it was now safe to move away from his position between Sam and Mal. He settled back into the chair, that was now beginning to really irritate him, and Sam sat on the vacant bed. "So what did Dr Roberts say anyway?"

"He went over everything that had happened." Sam said, keeping his gaze on the boy on the bed, who was mumbling and tossing slightly in the bed. "He told me that the restraints had been torn to sheds."

"What?"

"I know. I guess this all comes down to him not being exactly human." Sam said, looking at Dean momentarily.

Dean nodded. He was not sure if he was supposed to be worried about themselves or Mal. At the moment everything seemed to be an uncertainty.

* * *

It was some hours later that Mal finally opened his eyes again. Both Winchesters were watching him as he searched the room with his eyes. As soon as the boy caught sight of them his gaze dropped and it seemed to try to look anywhere but at them. He used his left arm to push himself into a sitting position, but still he refused to look at them. _Okay, this is going to be a little bit difficult_, Dean thought as Sam nodded to him. Dean walked towards the bed holding a flask of water which they had added holy water to earlier. Mal's greenish-blue eyes looked directly at Dean for a second as he stood next to the bed with the glass of water held towards the teenage boy.

Mal looked at him again, this time worry flashed in his eyes and it took everything Dean could muster not to turn around and walk away with the glass again.

"Drink some water." Dean ordered, pushing the water closer towards the boy.

Mal kept eye contact as he reached for the flask with his left hand raised it to his lips. He stopped for a second, his eyes locked in Dean's, before taking a sip. He swallowed. Dean was watching the boy intently, knowing that Sam was doing the same. Nothing happened at first. The teenager merely looked confused for a few seconds before he let out a harsh scream, doubling over on the bed. Dean rushed forwards, a hand on each of Mal's shoulders supporting him.

"What did you do?" Mal gasped through painful heaves of drawing in air.

"Just a few drops of holy water." Dean said calmly, though his mind was screaming at him. The boy's eyes had not blacked over, no demon had showed itself.

"Why?" Mal gasped, raising his head to look at Dean's with tear filled eyes.

"I saw your blood tests." Sam explained, joining Dean by the side of the bed.

"No!" Mal moaned. "I destroyed them…they couldn't possibly…"

"You destroyed the first set of blood tests?" Sam asked. Dean could hear his brother was concerned and confused too.

Mal nodded, before trying to push Dean's arms away. Dean held on tight, but he was not prepared for the sudden actions that followed after. Mal looked at him with horrified look in his eyes.

"Run." He gasped, before once more doubling over. Both Winchesters were utterly confused at the reaction and did not move. Dean could feel Mal's shoulders trembling, as he looked up again, a blank expression on his face.

Dean was thrown away from the boy and stumbled backwards, though Sam quickly caught him. When he straightened he saw the boy standing beside the bed, his head cocked slightly to the side, his eyes wide open.

"Mal?" Dean tried calmly. The sudden change in the boy was scaring him out of his wits.

The boy suddenly sneered at him before doubling over again. The two brothers heard a loud thump as Mal crashed to the floor. Dean was about to rush forwards, but Sam held out an arm to stop him. They stared towards the spot where Mal had disappeared and listened to the rasp breathing coming from behind the bed. They heard a sudden sharp intake of breath before a hand appeared on top of the bed, quickly followed by the rest of Mal. He raised his gaze again, looking very exhausted.

"Did I do the whole Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde on you?" He asked quietly, his gaze falling to the floor.

"You could say that." Sam said, the first of the brothers to find his voice.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean asked, but continued when Sam sent him 'a look'. "Are you a demon then?"

"Please don't." Mal pleaded, falling to the floor beside the bed. Sam and Dean rushed round the sofa to find Mal sitting with his back resting against the bed. "You're going to tell me you want to know everything, right?"

"Something like that." Dean said, sitting down next to the boy, who quickly scurried slightly away, leaving a bigger gap between them. Sam crouched down next to Dean and looked at the boy.

"You aren't going to hear it." Mal said simply.

"Kid…we can't really just let you walk." Dean said truthfully.

"Go away." Mal whispered harshly.

"Dean." Sam voice caused Dean to tear his eyes away from the boy and look at Sam who was holding a syringe in his hand. Dean gave him a questioned look, but Sam merely nodded; the look in his eyes told Dean that his brother would tell him everything later.

Dean sighed and leant forwards, quickly wrapping his arms around the boy holding him still. Dean was prepared for a violent outburst which was just what he got. The boy seemed to do everything he could think of and what were pure instincts to get out of Dean's grasp, but Dean held on tight. Sam quickly got the sedative injected into Mal's arm, though the boy screamed his protests loudly.

"We've got to get him to Bobby." Sam said, panting hard, looking down at the now unconscious boy.

Dean nodded, and it was not long before they had gathered the things and made their way to the Impala.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: A big thank you to my AWESOME reviewers who just makes my day sunny - even when it rains, as it does a lot in England.

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters, but Mal is all mine.

* * *

The engine of the Impala roared in content when Dean urged it to go faster. Dean had insisted to drive, so Sam had taken to sitting in the backseat with Mal, who was still fast asleep from the sedation. Dean was not sure if going to Bobby's was the best plan, but for the moment there was no Plan B.

"He's pretty cold, Dean." Sam said in a worried voice from the backseat.

"Put this over him." Dean said, pulling off his jacket and handing it to Sam. He figured that it was probably easier than having to go through the contents of the boy's bag.

"He should be out for an hour or so." Sam explained as he draped Dean's jacket around Mal's shoulders.

"Where did you get the sedation from anyway?" Dean asked, looking in the interior mirror for a second, seeing Mal's pale face.

"The hospital of course. I figured it could come in handy." Sam said.

"Guess you were right." Dean admitted, though he hated that they had to sedate the boy to do anything to help him…or kill him. Dean hoped it did not have to come to that. "Do you want to call Bobby to tell him we're coming?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam agreed and pulled out his cell phone. Dean heard him fiddle around with the phone a bit before his voice rang through the car again. "Hi there Bobby, it's Sam…we're good, yeah…no, just a little trouble with the case we are dealing with at the moment. Could we come round?" There was silence for a little while before Sam spoke again. "There's this sixteen year old boy…what? No, no…Bobby…Bobby, listen…" Dean chuckled slightly at Sam's attempt at getting the older hunter's attention. "He's not human, Bobby…That's the thing, we don't really know…Are you sure? You're sure…That's great…Thanks, Bobby." Sam sighed in relief as he put the phone down. "Next time you're the one to explain."

"You didn't really explain much, did you?" Dean chuckled.

"We'll fill him in later." Sam said in a tired voice.

"Have you got a theory to what happened?" Dean asked.

"Not really." Sam admitted. Dean looked in the mirror again to see Sam running a hand through his hair. "I'll take a look at the laptop."

"Do you really think you'll find anything?" Dean questioned. He wondered what you would search for with something like this.

"I can try." Sam reasoned as he got out his laptop. "Whatever it is, it has definitely happened before. I mean, he knew what was going on."

"Should that make me feel more comfortable?" Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Sam in the mirror.

"Whatever you want, Dean." Sam said absentmindedly.

"Cheeseburger –"

"Don't even start." Sam warned. Dean shut it as getting into an argument would definitely not help anything.

They were silent for a while. Dean was playing music, but was keeping the volume low so as not to disturb the remaining occupants of the car. The sound of Sam tapping away on the laptop filled the car, but Dean refrained from saying any kind of joke-insult, which was awfully tempting.

"Nothing." Sam said suddenly.

"What?" Dean had been going off into his own little world and had not quite heard what his brother said.

"I can't really find anything." Sam admitted bitterly.

"Keep trying." Dean encouraged.

Sam sighed and the violent typing resumed. Dean understood Sam's frustration. Personally, he knew that if he was put on the spot on doing research on this, he would not have a clue on what he was supposed to be looking for.

"I think we can rule out possession." Sam said from the backseat.

"Yeah, possession didn't exactly tick all of the boxes." Dean agreed.

"I think we're going to have to ask him directly…" Sam's voice died out towards the end of his sentence and he became extremely quiet.

"Sam?" Dean said cautiously.

"Dean, pull the car over for a minute." Sam requested, though his voice sounded rather vacant.

"Sam? Sam, what is it?" Dean cursed himself for letting his voice sound so worried, though he pulled the car over nonetheless. Sam was immediately out of the backseat and in the passenger seat, the laptop with him.

"You know when we went to see him at the hospital he was very reluctant to talk about his mother?" Sam questioned in a hurried voice.

"Yeah?" Dean drawled.

"Well, I was looking through old police records for crimes, missing persons and so on." Sam continued. "And I found this? Does this remind you of anyone?"

Sam turned the laptop exposing the computer screen to Dean. He was met with a photograph of a young boy, no older than twelve, with black hair and greenish-blue eyes. Though everything about the boy seemed different in some ways than from the one they had in the backseat, there was no arguing who the photograph represented. Dean looked at Sam again.

"This is Alec Crofton, age twelve. He disappeared just after his twelfth birthday." Sam said. "This report was added four years ago."

"Shit." Dean was not sure what else to say. It seemed that everything that happened just kept getting worse. "Does it say more about his disappearance?"

"When this report was issued they were not sure if he was a runaway or if he was kidnapped." Sam explained.

"Is there a phone number?" Dean asked.

"Why? What's on your mind?" Sam asked, looking at Dean curiously.

"Who issued the report?"

"His mother…Alec Crofton's mother."

"Well, what if she knows something about his…er…his 'condition'?" Dean knew that they weren't exactly one hundred percent certain that Alec Crofton was Mal Johnson, but if he was Dean still wanted to know what was going on.

"Her phone number is there…" Sam said. "I mean, unless she has moved we should be able to get hold of her."

"Are we sure that Mal Johnson is Alec Crofton?" Dean asked, needing Sam's opinion as reassurance.

"Well, everything fits, doesn't it?" Sam stated.

"True." Dean agreed. "Should we call her?"

"Why not?" Sam said, quickly grabbing his phone again.

"Do you think we should wait till we arrive at Bobby's?" Dean asked before Sam punched the numbers into the phone.

"There's about another hour's drive or so, right?" Sam said. Dean nodded and Sam continued. "So, if you drive, I'll call. Dean, why shouldn't we? This poor woman lost her twelve year old sob; maybe it will be the best just to call."

"How much longer is he out for?" Dean asked, casting a glance at Mal.

"He should be out for another half an hour or so by now." Sam said. "I could just give him another shot of the sedation to make sure he doesn't wake up until we reach Bobby."

"Don't overdose the boy." Dean warned.

"I won't." Sam promised, turning around in the seat and gave Mal another shot of the sedation carefully.

Dean cast a glance at Sam as his brother put in the number and held the phone to his ear, before starting the Impala's engine.

"Anyone answering?" Dean asked, though Sam merely shushed him.

"Hello? Hello, my name's…" Sam paused for a moment as though pondering on which name to use, "Sam Hamill; is there a Miss Crofton that I could talk to?" Sam paused again, listening intently. "There is? Thank you." Sam looked at Dean and gave him the thumbs up. "Yes? Hello? Miss Crofton? Yes, hello, this is Agent Sam Hamill, I just have a few questions for you…no Miss, your son's not in any trouble…" Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, who looked at him for a second with a confused look. "This is concerning Alec Crofton…Ma'am? Ma'am are you still there?" Sam looked at Dean with a look that clearly said 'what the hell?' "Miss Crofton was it your son who disappeared four years ago?" Another lengthy pause. "It was…was he ever recovered?" A longer pause before Sam continued. "He wasn't recovered? Miss Crofton, we may have located your son." This time there was a long silence and Sam looked at Dean and shrugged, looking as though he had no idea what was going on.

"Sam? Is she still there?" Dean whispered, but Sam merely shrugged again.

"Yes?" Sam said suddenly. "Of course…" Sam gave Bobby's address to the woman before bidding her a good day. "She wanted to see him."

"Why do you not sound remotely pleased about that?" Dean asked.

"Something's not right here." Sam said, looking lost in his own thoughts.

"When is it ever?" Dean said truthfully. "What did she say?"

"Not that much actually." Sam said. "I mean, first she asked if her son was in trouble, so I take it she has another son. But when I mentioned Alec Crofton she became really quiet and when she spoke her voice was…oh I don't know…almost nervous…but not the good happy nervous."

"There is a good happy nervous?" Dean questioned with a sidelong glance at Sam.

"Sure there is."

"So, she is going to come to Bobby's?" Dean said, remembering Sam giving Miss Crofton the address.

"She'll be there in a couple of days." Sam explained, leaning back in the seat.

"Happy times."

* * *

Sorry that Bobby didn't turn up, but I promise that he will make his appearance in the next chapter... 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks to my wonderful reviewers; you just make my day! Sorry this chapter is so short, but I just wanted to get an update out quickly. Promise the next chapter will be out soon!

* * *

Dean peered out through the windscreen of the Impala at the worn wooden building before them. Bobby was standing on the porch, his usual old cap on his head. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and curiosity as he eyed the Impala. Dean opened the door of the car and stepped out into the cool evening, the last rays of the sun making the sun a pink and orange hue.

"Hey, Bobby." Sam greeted as he too stepped out of the car.

"Hey boys." Bobby said, coming down from the porch. "Where is he then?"

"We sedated him; he's in the backseat." Sam said, as Dean moved to the back of the car, opened the door and emerged with Mal in his arms.

"What the hell happened to him?" Bobby demanded when he saw the boy in Dean's arms.

"He had a bad run-in with his father." Dean said as he started carrying Mal towards the house. "Have you got anywhere I can put him?"

"Yeah, of course, this way." Bobby said quickly and let the Winchesters into the house.

Dean followed Bobby upstairs and into a spare room which Bobby mainly used for storage, though he had managed to fit in a narrow bed, that, to be quite honest, did not look to bad all things considered. Dean put Mal down on the bed, slipping his own jacket off the boy and instead pulled a blanket over him.

"You boys better fill me in on what's going on." Bobby warned as he came into the room with three chairs. The three of them took a seat all facing the bed. "How long until the sedation wears off?"

"I don't think it will be more than half an hour." Sam said, before he and Dean started to explain everything that had happened, but when they told Bobby about their conversation with Miss Crofton, his frown deepened.

"So she is coming here?" Bobby asked carefully.

"We thought it might be good to know if Alec Crofton really is Mal Johnson, and if he is, maybe she knows more about him than we do." Dean explained.

"Has he talked to you about any of it?" Bobby asked, nodding in Mal's direction.

"To be honest with you, Bobby," Sam said, "he does not say more than he thinks necessary."

Bobby merely grunted and nodded in response.

* * *

Voices. They always accompanied him, but now there were more of them. They were all blending together, making it senseless noise. He tried to fight against veil of darkness covering his mind. He did not want to be asleep. He hated that everyone always tried to get him down in some way or another, but worst of all was that he knew that he was a coward…he always let them put him down.

He pried his eyelids open, momentarily blinded by the lamp hanging above his head, but he determinedly blinked a couple of times clearing his vision slightly. He moved his left tentatively. At least he was not in restraints in any shape or form. The voices that had been around him died down immediately. _Oh shit_.

"Mal?"

He recognised the voice. It belonged to that man. What was his name?

_What does that matter?_

Shut up.

He recognised the voice as belonging to the one who had held him still while the other…the other had sedated him. Had to have done. How else could he have ended up like this?

Mal raised his head slightly to see three men seated at the foot of the bed which he was lying in. Instinctively he scrambled backwards, knocking his head into the wall by the bed in the progress. He kept his hands up in front of him trying to signify to them that he did not want any trouble. All of what had happened had come rushing back in go. They knew. They knew that he was not completely human.

"Mal, stop…stop." The man…Dean, that was his name, said as he slowly stood. Mal was not sure whether or not he was actually hearing everything that was being said as he was frantically trying to crawl the walls, while keeping an eye on the three other occupants in the room.

_Deep breath, come on Mal, you can do it. Stop being such a wimp._

Mal forced his body and mind back under control and took a couple of deep breaths. They must think that he was some raving lunatic. _This just makes my day_. Mal could not see how they could not either think that he was completely mental, or if they knew about his…freakishness, then they must think him dangerous.

"Look…" Mal started, though inwardly cursing himself for saying anything though he argued with himself that it was necessary for them to understand the concept that he was definitely not _that_ evil. "I didn't…" He stopped again trying to think of some way to say what he wanted them to get into their thick skulls. "I'm not evil."

"We know." All three of them said in unison.

Why the devil did they have to go and make things so hard? If they could just say 'Hey, you're evil, pal, deal with it' everything would just have been so much easier. Mal sighed and nodded.

"Where am I?" He felt lost and found the need to ask the question even though it sounded pathetic to his own ears.

"At Bobby's house." Dean said. "This is Bobby." He motioned to the eldest of the three.

Mal looked at Bobby. This was going to be a tough call. Fighting his way out would definitely not work.

"What are you, Mal?" The youngest of them asked…Sam or something like that. Mal did not want to answer that question. It was the one he feared was coming. Somehow though he knew that lying or not saying anything would not be an option.

"Can we do this somewhere else?" Mal asked. He hated being in a bed while everyone stared at him, prodded him or stuck knives in him.

"We can go down into the kitchen. Get us a cup of coffee or tea or something." Bobby said, rising from his chair. "Come on."

Mal was slightly taken aback that they had actually heard his request and taken it into account. He wondered briefly how he was actually going to make it anywhere, but he pushed himself off the bed and shakily got to his feet. He looked down at his bare feet, but as he could see no sign of any shoes, he took a few tentative steps towards the door where Dean and Sam were waiting for him. They did not look threatening to him, which surprised him greatly. It was not something he was used to. Kindness, that is.

"Can you walk?" Dean asked as Mal reached them.

"Just about." Mal admitted.

"Do you want any help?"

Mal did not have time to register who had said anything as a hand reached out towards him. Memories raced through his mind. Hands reaching out; fists meeting him. He jumped to the side before the hand had time to come into contact with him, though the sudden jump brought him off balance. Hands caught him before he fell, though he was quickly out of their touch. He stood completely still for a moment, breathing hard, trying to get his bearings. He cleared his voice and looked up at the two men before him, who both looked equally worried.

"Kitchen?" Sam requested.

Mal nodded gratefully and followed the two of them out of the room.

* * *

**The** talk coming up in the next chapter... 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Just want to say a massive thank you to you wonderful reviewers! You really encourage me to keep writing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the the show or its characters; though Mal is my creation.

* * *

Dean watched as the boy fidgeted with the cup of tea that he had accepted, but it seemed that he merely had done so to have something to with his hands. His eyes were downcast and his hair was standing in all directions, though parts of it had fallen forward to hide aspects of his face. Sam sat down next to Dean, but when Bobby sat down too, Mal looked up for a second with a haunted look, before letting his gaze drop again.

"So, kid," Bobby said, Mal visibly tensing at the sound of his voice, "care to explain why your blood test comes back as 'not human'?"

Dean could see that Mal would like nothing more than say a big, well pronounced _no_, but the boy took a deep breath, closed his eyes and grabbed his cup tighter.

"I'm completely human." Mal said, opening his eyes. Dean noticed that, like himself, Sam and Bobby merely stared at the boy. When Mal continued his voice was very faint and barely audible. "On my mother's side."

"So your father is a demon?" Bobby asked.

"Yes. Of sorts." Mal sighed, looking more and more uncomfortable.

"What do you mean 'of sorts'?" Sam said curiously.

"Who are you?" Mal asked suddenly after a slight pause.

"What do you mean?" Dean said, leaning back in his chair for a moment.

"How do you know about demons?" Mal elaborated.

"Oh that; we're hunters." Dean informed the boy, whose eyes widened. "We fight the things that go bumping in the night. We bump back."

"So you don't think I'm completely crazy when I tell you that my father is a demon?"

"No." Dean said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"My father is a shapeshifter." Mal said. Dean noticed that his jaw tightened. Was he only talking to them out of fear?

"We've met them." Sam said truthfully.

"What?" Mal said, suddenly looking like someone had put something extremely smelly under his nose.

"Shapeshifters? We've dealt with them before." Sam explained.

Mal blinked a couple of times looking extremely confused.

"What kind of shapeshifters have you encountered?" Mal enquired.

"Normal shapeshifters." Sam said, looking equally confused. "Shedding their skin, taking on the form of another human…"

Sam's voice died away when Mal started slowly shaking his head.

"That's one kind of shapeshifter." He said, looking at each of the three men in turn. "He doesn't turn into different people…this is going to sound so ridiculous…"

"Please go on." Bobby urged on.

"He can turn into different animals." Mal said quickly. "It's completely lame…not at all original…"

"Bobby?" Sam suddenly said. Dean was not sure what to think or say. He had to admit that he had never heard of anything like this before. "Do you know anything about this?"

"No, not really." Bobby admitted.

"Look, I'm not making this up!" Mal suddenly exclaimed, though his attempt at jumping to his feet was unsuccessful.

"Mal, we're not saying you are." Dean said quickly. _Damn, he's worse than Sammy was when he was his age._

"So some of your father's shapeshifter DNA is what showed in your blood test?" Sam asked, looking directly at the boy, who sank down in the chair looking smaller than before.

"Yeah." Mal replied after a slight pause.

"You really don't like talking about this, do you, kid?" Bobby said suddenly, leaning across the kitchen table.

Mal bit down on his lower lip, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Bobby.

"I never have." He suddenly admitted quietly.

"You never talked about this to anyone?" Dean blurted out in disbelief. Sam shot him a quick look of disapproval.

"Of course I didn't!" Mal said, looking directly at Dean. "What do you think they would have done with me if I told someone, hm? Stuck me in some mental ward until they took blood tests. Then it would be off to some lab where they would do experiments on me to no end."

"Your father's words I believe." Bobby said. Mal lowered his head and nodded.

"He filled a lot of crap into your head, didn't he?" Bobby said quietly and softly, so as not to startle the boy.

Mal, however, looked up with a strange look in his eyes. His eyes looked glazed over as though he was not really seeing what was in front of him.

"My father is a clever man." He said vacantly.

"I have no doubt he is." Bobby said. Dean could not understand how Bobby could keep a straight face. To say it mildly Dean was outraged that the boy actually protected his father even after what had been done to him.

Mal looked down at his feet again, his hands now fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt instead of the cup.

"He wanted me to be like him you know." Mal whispered. Dean was not quite sure if they were even supposed to hear what he was saying, so he let the boy continue without interruption. "I think that deep down – very deep down – he was actually proud of me; or wanted to be anyway."

"Mal?" Sam said slowly. Dean was surprised to hear the slight waver in his brother's voice. "We saw what you looked like at the hospital; only a monster would do that to his own son."

Sam's words were the truth, but Dean could see they struck the boy hard. It seemed that everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks came crashing upon him in one go, but instead of letting it go he packed it all inside. Dean recognised it. The want to hide any weaknesses; any fears. He knew that he put on a Game Face on occasion to hide what was really going on; maybe the teenager was doing the exact same thing.

"So what about you?" Dean suddenly asked. Mal looked up at him with a confused look on his face. "Your father is a demon; so what about you?"

"Do the math yourself." Mal said quietly. "I'm half demon, okay?"

"Yeah, I realised that." Dean said, sending the boy a quick smile, which was not returned. "What I meant was: are you a shapeshifter too?"

"Not…entirely." Mal said, shaking his head slowly.

"Care to elaborate?" Bobby asked.

"Not really." Mal admitted, though he avoided looking up at them. He was quiet for a minute. Bobby sent Dean 'a look' when he opened his mouth to say something, immediately telling Dean not to say a word. Finally, Mal looked up, looking each of them in the eye. "He forced me to change into…some of the shapeshifting forms."

"Such as?" Bobby pressed on.

"I can't do the small animals…only some of the bigger ones." Mal said, again in a quiet, almost inaudible, tone. "I have established a wolf and a horse."

"Wicked!" Dean said with a grin before he could stop himself. Both Sam and Bobby looked at him angrily, though Mal only looked slightly shocked by his exclamation. Dean cleared his throat and looked down at his feet for a moment.

"What…erm…what does your father turn into then?" Sam asked, clearly trying to cover for Dean's comment.

"All sorts of mammals." Mal said. "No reptiles. That's a different type of shapeshifter."

"How long can he stay in a certain mammal form?" Sam asked.

"Forever." Mal said, looking more uncomfortable than he had done at any point during the conversation. "Hence the human form he bears."

"What does he look like, then?" Dean questioned curiously.

Mal opened his mouth a couple of times but no words came out. He looked up at Dean with a pleading look. Dean nodded; showing he understood that the boy did not want to describe this right now.

"There is something else, Mal." Sam said carefully, putting his laptop on the kitchen table. Mal eyed it wearily.

"Sam…" Dean was not sure whether this was the time to laden more on the boy's shoulders though he knew full well that now that they had the boy talking, they had to use it.

"Do you by any change recognise this photo?" Sam asked as he turned the laptop, revealing the picture of Alec Crofton to Mal.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: So sorry about the longer update! With that said, thanks so much oh ye wonderful awesome reviewers! You just make my day!

Disclaimer: I own nothing...well except for Mal.

* * *

Dean had his eyes locked onto Mal's face as Sam turned the laptop. He was not sure what to expect. Personally, he was quite sure that Alec Crofton was Mal Johnson. Of course the boy in the picture looked different but at the same time so alike as the teenage boy in front of him. He had looked at the picture again before Sam turned the laptop around, and the eyes of Alec Crofton were a giveaway. Their greenish-blue depths were hard to be mistaken of, and even though Mal's looked more haunted than the lively ones of Alec Crofton, Dean was pretty certain of the identity of Mal Johnson.

Mal did nothing. He looked at the picture as though his life depended on it, but apart from that he did not move or speak. This only made Dean sure of his conclusion. He shared a glance with Sam and Bobby before looking back at the boy. Mal blinked a few times just as his eyes started to glaze over.

"Don't know." Mal whispered hoarsely.

_Oh dear, back to this again, _Dean thought as he stood up from his chair and instead leant against the kitchen cupboards.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Bobby asked, his voice for once during their conversation had an angry tone to it. It was clear that Mal heard the change of tone as he immediately looked up, looking tense and ready to move quickly if he had to.

"Don't know." Mal said again. Dean could hear his breathing starting to quicken, and was slightly worried that the kid was going to have a panic attack.

"Mal." Sam said calmly, but sternly. "Is that you?"

"I don't know….why would you think something as ridiculous as that?" Mal said quickly, trying to brush of Sam's comment with a false laugh. Neither of the hunters bought it.

"Mal, how long did you live with your father?" Sam asked, looking at the boy before him.

Dean closed his eyes briefly. He did not wish to get out of hand, but the boy seemed more reluctant than ever before to say anything to them.

"Why's that so important?" Mal asked quietly, looking down at his feet.

"Did you by any chance start living with him when you were twelve?" Sam pressed on. It was a simple

"Did you by any chance start living with him when you were twelve?" Sam pressed on. It was a simple _yes_ or _no_ answer, but somehow Dean thought that it would be a little harder than that to get the answer out of the boy.

Mal opened and closed his mouth a few times as thought trying to figure out what to say, before he closed his mouth firmly, seemingly deciding to refrain from saying anything.

"Kid, I've got more of that holy water if you want any." Bobby said calmly. Mal's head shot up at the comment about the same time as Dean turned his head to look at Bobby, unsure if he had heard the elder hunter correctly.

"You would love that, wouldn't you?" Mal sneered at Bobby, and for a brief moment Dean saw something sparkle in his eyes, before Mal quickly shook his head and settled back to look at his feet.

"Is that you or the demon talking?" Bobby said.

"I can't remember!" Mal suddenly shouted, jumping to his feet, leaning slightly on the table for support. "I have no idea how long I have been with my father. Is that what you want to hear? He did not want me to remember. He wanted me to forget everything. I tried – okay – I tried…"

"Did you succeed?" Bobby asked.

"Partly." Mal looked exhausted after the tirade he had had moments before, but he kept standing.

"So, you are the boy in that picture?" Sam asked pointing at the laptop.

"Not anymore." Mal whispered.

Dean took a deep breath. He knew that this was the most of a confession they would get out of the boy concerning his identity as Alec Crofton.

"Alec Crofton, then, is you?" Bobby said, clearly not quite satisfied with Mal's answer.

"I told you," Mal growled, eyeing Bobby, "not anymore."

"You better start being him again, because Alec Crofton's mother will be here one of these next days." Bobby said calmly. Dean knew immediately that this was not the best way of telling the boy.

Mal's face blanched and he slowly backed away from the kitchen table, before dashing off towards the front door.

"I locked the door." Bobby said, as both Sam and Dean started forward.

They heard thundering footsteps on the stairs and Dean ran forward in time to see the boy's legs giving way on the top of the stairs, causing him to crash down on his side. He growled loudly and attempted to push himself up again, though his arms were also starting to give up. He lay there, panting for a few moments before resuming his attempts.

"Get away from me!" He shouted as Dean set a foot on the staircase.

"Sorry, I can't do that, kid." Dean said calmly as he slowly started making his way up the stairs.

Mal reminded Dean of a frightened animal caught in a trap as he scrambles onto the landing, using the wall to push himself onto his feet. He kept his eyes on Dean as he quickly started backing until his back hit the wall behind him. Dean kept moving quietly up the stairs, listening to Sam and Bobby's breathing from the bottom of the stairs, though he kept his eyes on Mal, who stood panting on top of the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall.

"Mal, we're not trying to hurt you, okay?" Dean said calmly as he reached the landing.

"Let me go." Mal said, a pleading tone in his voice.

"Can't do that." Dean said, walking towards the boy, who tried to push himself further into the wall.

Mal suddenly screamed and before Dean knew it the boy had planted a hard kick to Dean's abdomen. Dean straightened in time to block the boy's next blows. He refused to return any of them, and the Mal quickly ran out of adrenalin, though he continued his attempts at lashing out.

"Mal! Mal, stop it." Dean said calmly as he listened to the boy's rash breathing.

Dean was surprised to see tears shining in the boy's eyes as he quietly leant back against the wall, sliding down, ending up sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

"How could you?" Mal gasped, his eyes turned to Dean. Dean noticed a single tear had made its way down the boy cheek.

"We called Miss Crofton – your mother I presume – on our way to Bobby's. The report said that you were missing." Dean said quietly as he crouched down in front of the boy.

"Missing?" Mal choked out in disbelief.

"Yeah." Dean said trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"Who the hell issued that report?" Mal whispered, tears now streaming freely down his face.

"Your mother." Dean said. He could hear Sam and Bobby making their way up the staircase. "Wait a minute Sammy…Bobby."

"No." Mal said quietly shaking his head, though he seemed that his words were directed more towards himself. "No…she can't have done."

"Mal, what do you mean?" Dean asked, he could see the boy was starting to panic and was not quite sure what was causing it this time. "Did you run away, or what happened? She issued the report four years ago. She obviously cars about you –"

"Cares about me?" Mal cried out, looking at Dean again. "She was the one who dumped me in the middle of nowhere for my father to pick me up. She is the cause for all of this. So don't you dare tell me that she cares about me!"

Dean was not sure what to say in answer to Mal's confession. He watched as the boy quickly removed the traces of tears with his left arm, his right now cradled across his chest.

"But it doesn't matter." Mal said hoarsely. "I don't remember her; he made sure of that."

"Mal, I'm sorry –" Dean began.

"Don't." Mal interrupted quietly. "I don't want your pity. Could you just…leave me alone for a while?"

Dean nodded. It was the least he could do. It seemed when he looked at the boy, that Mal had just poured his heart out. Dean knew that it was only a small load of what wad locked inside but at least it was a start.

"Can I at least show you to your room?" Dean asked, feeling that he would feel a little bit better about himself if he left the boy in a room with a bed instead of in the middle of a corridor.

"I can find my own way." Mal said with the best sneer that he could muster. Dean watched him struggling to get up from the floor, but when he reached out a hand to help the teenager, Mal shook him off.

"Your things are in the room." Dean said as the boy made his way towards the room he had previously occupied. Dean waited until the door to the room closed after him, before making his way back downstairs.

Sam and Bobby stood at the foot of the staircase, waiting for him.

"I didn't know you could be so kind, Dean." Bobby said as Dean reached them.

"Well, I've had practice." Dean said simply with a nod in Sam's direction.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Another HUGE thanks to my AWESOME reviewers!

Warning: implications of abuse in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Show is not mine. Characters from the show is not mine. Mal is all mine.

* * *

Dean slumped down in a chair by the kitchen table and waited for Bobby and Sam to join him. He suddenly felt extremely exhausted. The events over the last few days had worn him more out than he first would have thought. Then again, things were never as they first seemed. He would never have thought that Mal was part demon when he first saw him in the hospital. The thought of what Mal had just confessed did not make Dean feel more comfortable about the situation either.

The chairs scraped against the floor as Sam and Bobby joined Dean at the table. They almost looked as tired as Dean felt.

"This sure does complicate matters a bit." Dean said, looking up at his brother and the older hunter.

The other two grunted in agreement and Sam nodded, his eyes showing that he was not really hearing what was being said. _Probably thinking of something geekish._

"Didn't you feed the kid?" Bobby suddenly asked, looking directly at Dean.

"He has not been with us very long, Bobby." Dean said, casting a glance at Sam, who still seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. "And yeah, we offered him food. He's just not all that keen."

"What happened at the hospital?" Bobby asked.

"What do you mean?" Dean said, resting his hands on the table and leaning closer to the hunter.

"He doesn't actually dare to trust anybody." Bobby said.

"No offence, Bobby, but you did threaten to pour holy water down his throat." Dean stated.

Bobby grunted again, before getting up from his chair and gathering three beer bottles.

"Did he say that it was his mother who had put him with his father?" Sam asked as Bobby put down one of the bottles in front of him.

"Yeah, I believe he did." Dean said, taking a swig from his own bottle.

"She just didn't sound like that." Sam said, though it seemed that it was regarded more to himself than to the other two hunters.

"Well, Sammy, people aren't always what they first seem." Dean said, keeping his eyes fixed on his bottle so as not to see the daggers his little brother threw at him.

"What do you make of it, Bobby?" Sam asked, removing his gaze from Dean.

"I can't see we have that much of a choice in the matter." Bobby sighed.

"We are not killing him, Bobby!" Dean snarled, immediately putting his bottle down on the table.

"What do _you_ suppose we do then?" Bobby growled in return. "He's a demon, Dean. God knows what he is capable of."

"He's just a kid." Dean said. "I'm not killing a kid…and I'm sure as hell not allowing either of you two to do it either."

"I agree with Dean." Sam said, keeping eye contact with Dean.

_Thanks, Sammy_, Dean thought. Sometimes Sam really was the greatest little brother. _When he is not too geeky._

"Alright." Bobby said. "But if he kills anyone – either of you especially – I'm getting rid of him."

"I won't allow it Bobby." Dean responded in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. To be honest he was quite surprised at Bobby's certainty in the matter.

"If you are dead…then what?" Bobby said.

"That's enough! Both of you." Sam exclaimed as Dean was about to retaliate. "Look, we know that he is not entirely human, but I don't think he's evil, Bobby. He's a scared kid who's been through way more than a child his age should have been through."

"Okay." Bobby agreed. "But he's not leaving this place. I want us to be able to keep a close eye on him."

"Agreed." Dean and Sam said in unison.

The three of them raised their bottles and was about to all take a swig when a scream was heard from above. Dean was on his feet and on the staircase faster than he would even have thought possible. He did not allow himself to admire this but instead hurried of the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

The door to the bedroom that Mal was occupying was closed shut, though Dean could still hear soft whimpers from the other side. He quickly got the door open, to see Mal lying fully dressed on the bed. He seemed to be asleep, though far from peaceful. He was thrashing slightly, but what mostly caught Dean's attention were the tears streaming down the boy's face along with the pleading words escaping his mouth.

* * *

Mal could not quite understand how he could have said what he had said. Sure he was frustrated, but he had not meant to say it at all. He could hardly remember anything from the time before he left his mother's care, his father had made sure of that. He hurriedly wiped the tears away from his face. His father had told him that he did not care much for them anyway. Tears did not make him strong, and definitely did not make his father proud of him.

He curled up on the bed. He did not want to but he felt so tired and at the moment wanted nothing more to sleep and be left alone. His eyes drooped to a close and his mind began swirling. As so often his sleep was haunted by images and scenes he had tried so hard to forget.

_He sat curled up in a corner trying with all of his might not to hear the footsteps coming up the stairs. The worst part was not the footsteps, but the sound of something being dragged with them up the stairs. He heard a growl and the footsteps stopped, quickly to be resumed, though this time he only heard soft thuds every time a paw was put on one of the creaking steps._

_He shivered and pushed himself further into the dark corner. He did not want to see what his father had brought home this time. He did not want to know whether the killing had made his father happy or not. He did not want to care for whoever had met their fate, but the__ human in him could not help it. The door creaked open, but before anyone stepped inside a mist started swirling and the scene changed._

_His father snarled at him and came towards him with a hand raised. Mal screamed as the hand changed into a clawed paw before striking him. The mist swirled again, but he no longer wanted to know any of it. It seemed that the mist was holding him there. Even though he wanted all of it to stop, that little voice that would never leave him, told him not to wake up._

_No no no no NO! Not here…He couldn't move. His head felt too drowsy to make any sense. He heard footsteps nearby and turned his head slightly as he heard a door creak open._

"_No, father, please." The whimpered as he saw his father walking down the stairs, his black hair obscuring parts of his face from view, though his dark eyes could still be seen clearly in the darkness. "Father! Please!"_

_His father opened his mouth as though to speak, but no words came out. Mal could feel tears running uncontrollably down his face as the dark figure started advancing towards him, the reflection of the knife in his hand shining in his eyes. One hand was put on his shoulder as his father gazed into his eyes._

"_I'm sorry, son." He whispered before Mal felt a searing pain in his right shoulder. He screamed._

He bolted upright, where he was caught by strong arms, though they did not feel forcing. At that moment he did not care who this person was. It could be his father for all he cared. He needed to know that everything he had just seen was just a nightmare and that he was not in the cellar anymore. He leant into the arms holding him as sobs started wracking his body. The arms pulled him closer and he allowed it, needing the reassurance that he was not alone.

* * *

Dean was surprised that the boy did not pull away as he pulled him closer. At that moment Dean did not know what else to have done. It would have seemed wrong to simply leave the child. He tried to remember what he had done when Sam was younger and had been upset. He whispered soothing words in Mal's ear, not really aware of what he was saying. He stroked the boy's head, removing the hair that had fallen into his face.

"It's alright…" Dean whispered as Mal's hands dug deeper into Dean's shirt as though it was the last remaining thing on earth.

Dean looked up over the top of Mal's head and saw Sam standing in the doorway with Bobby behind him. Sam moved forward carefully and crouched beside Dean.

"Tell me if you need anything, okay?" He said quietly.

Dean nodded and noted that Mal had become quiet and that his breathing was slow and peaceful. Dean carefully laid him back down onto the bed and, making sure that the blanket was covering the boy sufficiently, he left the room with Sam.

They stopped just outside where Bobby was waiting for them.

"It's like a second little brother." Dean said tiredly.

"I don't know whether that's a compliment or not, but I'll say thanks anyway." Sam retorted.

"I think I better, you know, stay here for the rest of the night, in case he has another nightmare." Dean said, looking at the chair standing beside the bed.

"Wake me if you need someone else to watch over him." Bobby said quietly before making his way towards his own bedroom.

"Is he really like another brother to you?" Sam asked, looking in at Mal's sleeping form on the bed.

"I don't know. But it's something like that." Dean admitted. "I suppose it's because of you. It's all your fault bitch."

"Yeah right, jerk." Sam chuckled.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Once again a huge thank you to my readers and reviewers! You rock this world! Well...my world, anyway. ;-)

Also, for those of you who are interested I have made a music video to this story. You can find the link on my profile. If you watch it there might be a few spoilers on what may happen later. I don't know if what is shown in the video is the events that this story will take, but there were a few ideas.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, except for Mal of course...

* * *

Mal could feel the sun pressing on his eyelids and for a moment he wondered how long ago it was since he last felt the sun on his face. He savoured the moment, allowing the sun's warmth to fill him up and realised he felt at peace. The last couple of weeks had been a never ending nightmare which he seemed unable to wake up from. The events from the night before came crashing down upon him in one go. _Oh no_, he thought. He was angry with himself for having said so much, but there was something much, much worse.

He had cried. He did not think he had ever felt as embarrassed as he did at that moment. He had given himself up entirely, cried like he had not done in years. It only made him angrier with himself for having shown such a big weakness and for letting his defences down so much. His father would rightly have been angry and disappointed with him.

Mal pried his eyes open slowly, only to have his pride knocked down another notch when he saw Dean sleeping in a chair beside the bed. Was it he that Mal had clung to so desperately? _Brilliant; just brilliant. You really are making things worse for yourself, Mal._ He pushed himself up in a sitting position, and as quietly as possible crawled out of the bed. He had spent enough time in those lately. He caught sight of his bag across the room and went to it as fast as he could while keeping quiet. The voice in his head told him to run, but Mal was unsure.

Sure these people were not the nicest you could find, but they were at least a great improvement from his previous occupations. Running would probably not get him very far as his head was swimming. He thought that it might have something to do with not eating or drinking since he had been fooled with holy water. He would not fall for that one again.

Instead he picked up his bag with his left hand and made his way down the stairs, being careful to check their creaking before putting his full weight on the steps. He passed a clock on his way through the empty kitchen which showed that it was half past five. The sun must only be testing its rays for the start of a new day.

Mal saw a door leading outside which he quickly made for, bag clutched tightly in hand. As soon as he set foot outside he was bathed in the sun's first rays of warmth. He stopped, closed his eyes and allowed the sun's warmth and energy to fill him up. He had forgotten how wonderful daylight felt, but it was not only the feeling of day that was so welcoming, it was also the light in itself. He could see out here, and as he opened his eyes he smiled slightly to himself. The sun really was something he had greatly missed.

He took a good look at his surroundings. There were cars everywhere of every shape and size, but many of them did not exactly look healthy. He turned his head in different directions until he caught sight of a patch of grass some thirty metres away. He made his way over there slowly, his bag still in his left hand, not trusting the strength of his right just yet. He slumped down on the bit of grass and listened to the birds singing in the trees a little way off. With a sigh he opened the bag.

He dug his hand into it and felt the material curl around his fingers. He drew out a clean t-shirt, and laid it on the bag. He carefully eased off the shirt he was wearing, cursing slightly as he accidentally punched his right shoulder. He stared at his bare chest for a moment, taking in all the scars and the few bruises that were still visible. That was at least one thing he could thank the demon for: faster healing; that is, if he would allow the demon to come forth long enough for it to do its work. His eyes fell on his wrists there were still tightly bound in bandages. He hated it; all of it. Throwing the other t-shirt aside he quickly tore of the bandages around his wrists, grateful that his arms were finally beginning to respond better to what he wanted them to do. The wrists did not look pretty, but at least he did not have to look at that white dressing anymore. He shivered slightly against a morning breeze and put on the t-shirt. He stuffed the other shirt into the bag and withdrew a jumper, which he also put on.

He resumed the feeling of the inside of the bag until his fingers found the strange material of the clothes his father had got him. His father had refused to let him know what it was made of and Mal knew better than to question him. He quickly withdrew his hand and closed the bag.

He put the bag beside him and lay down for a while, allowing the sun to warm him up. He felt so cold, but he did not think that it was anything heat or clothes could do anything about. The coldness he felt was internal and eternal. He did not want to feel that way, but at the same time could not see he had much choice in the matter. He closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax just for a little while.

* * *

Dean stretched his sore muscles the best he could in the constraining chair. He could feel the sun streaming in through the window, but was reluctant to open his eyes and begin a new day. It was hard lately, but he reminded himself that it was rare that the Winchesters ever had an easy day. He stretched his arms up high over his head and with a groan opened his eyes.

The bed was empty.

Dean was immediately out of the chair and looking taking in the appearance of the room. There was no chance that the boy was hiding in here. He cast a glance towards where Mal's bag had been the previous evening; it was gone. Dean bolted out the door and ran for the stairs, banging on Sam and Bobby's doors on the way while yelling at them that Mal was gone. He half ran-half jumped down the stairs and was in the kitchen before Bobby or Sam even had time to register what he had said.

Dean looked around the kitchen, but could see nothing missing. He had half-hoped that if the boy had run again he would at least have taken food and water with him. A glance at the clock told him it was a little past seven. It was rare that he slept for this long and he was cursing himself for not waking when Mal left the room. He tore the door in the kitchen open and looked outside.

His heart almost caught in his throat when he saw Mal's form lying on a bit of grass a little way off. Dean hesitated for a moment as he tried to decide whether to run to the boy or to walk there calmly. Dean chose the first when he saw how pale Mal looked in the morning light. Dean dropped to his knees beside the teenager and roughly grabbed his shoulder, remembering too late what the boy had been through.

A low gurgling sound escaped from Mal as he scrambles backwards before his eyes even opened. Dean cursed himself for his reaction, but was secretly glad that the boy had not run away – even though that could have been what he had tried since his bag was there – and that he was not dead. Mal pushed himself to stand up on shaky legs before he opened his eyes. Dean was about to say something when he saw the look in the boy's eyes. The eyes were glazed over and did not seem to be seeing anything of what was in front of. _Now you've done it, Dean._

"Mal, I'm sorry, alright." Dean said calmly, standing up as well and holding out his hands towards Mal in a reassuring manner.

"Dean!"

Dean turned his head to see Sam standing in the doorway looking at the two of them.

"It's alright, Sam." Dean assured him with a small smile while wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one. His experience with someone Mal's age was only Sam and his brother had never gone psychotic.

Dean took a couple of steps towards Mal who was blinking madly and occasionally shaking his head. He looked at Dean as though he only just noticed he was there and for a moment looked as if he was unsure of what emotion his face should mask.

"You are probably the last person I would like to see right now." The boy said, clearly trying to keep his voice from shaking, though not quite succeeding.

"What did I do?" Dean exclaimed.

"Why the hell did you grab hold of me like that?" Mal asked quietly as he took a few tentative steps towards the bag that lay a few feet away from Dean.

"I'm sorry; I wasn't sure if you were alive or not." Dean said, but when Mal's blue eyes rested on his face he knew that the boy was far from satisfied with the answer.

"The pulse and breath or just the heartbeat is another way of checking." Mal said in a mocking tone.

Dean raised his eyebrows slightly at the boy's tone and glanced at Sam for a second who looked as puzzled as Dean felt.

"What were you doing out here anyway?" Dean asked with a nod of the head towards the bag Mal now held in his hand.

"Air." Mal said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean did not quite understand the boy's sudden change of attitude and vacantly said something about breakfast and headed for the house. Sam stopped him before he walked in and Dean looked at him quizzically.

"He's embarrassed, Dean." Sam said quietly.

"What?"

"He's embarrassed about what happened last night. Think about when you were sixteen. How would you have felt if you had cried to complete strangers?" Sam said, looking slightly down on Dean. _A shame that kid kept growing. It's a lot harder to be the big brother when he's a giant._ "Do you want me to take him inside?"

"He has got legs, Sam." Dean said vacantly.

"Dean…" Sam said with a nod in Mal's direction.

Dean turned his head in time to see Mal begin a tumble towards the ground. The two Winchesters caught the boy just before he it the ground.

"I'm alright." Mal said in irritation as he shrugged them off, but Dean had felt how cold the boy was and Sam's next comment showed him that his brother had too.

"How long have you been out here?" Sam asked with a concerned look at Mal.

"Since five-thirty." Mal said, clearly uncomfortable with them both beside him. It was first now that the boy stood on his own two feet beside Dean that he noticed that the boy was not that tall, but not the scrawniest either. He was shorter than Dean himself, but Dean realised that some of the height could easily be lost by the way the boy cowered whenever he was in the company of others.

"No wonder you're so cold." Sam said. "Come on; let's get inside."

For a moment Mal looked as if he was going to argue, but his jaw closed tight and he made his way towards the house in front of the two brothers. Dean shared a look with Sam who shrugged as though equally confused as Dean. They too started making their way towards the house and upon entering the kitchen, found Mal standing awkwardly in a corner seemingly trying to make himself invisible.

"So…where's the old man?" Dean said cheerfully.

"You must have got the wrong house." The low growling voice of Bobby said from the doorway.

"Do you keep any food in this house, Bobby?" Dean joked as he started opening cupboards.

"Not that one! DEAN!" Bobby shouted, but it was too late. Dean had mistakenly opened one of the cupboards he knew stacked a few of Bobby's weapons. The door opened to reveal guns, bullets, knifes, stakes and holy water.

The whole kitchen went silent.

The three hunters turned around, all dreading seeing Mal's take on these events. They were therefore quite surprised to see the boy's face looking quite at ease with the situation.

"Are you…okay?" Dean asked tentatively.

"My father's stock is bigger than that." Mal said quietly as though that explanation was enough.

"So, breakfast, Bobby." Dean said as he rubbed his hands together, eager to change the topic.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Sorry for the long update! Christmas coming up suddenly dawned on me...Thanks to my awesome reviewer rhoulou! You just make my day with your lovely reviews!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the character of Mal.

Well, merry christmas everyone!

* * *

Breakfast took place in an awkward silence. Sam and Dean tried to initiate a conversation a couple of times, but when their attempts at getting the other two to interact failed, the two brothers gave up. Dean was pleased to see that Mal was at least eating and drinking something. However, Dean wondered if the boy only did so to get their guard down and allow him to escape, though he had to remind himself that Mal could easily have run away earlier that morning, but he had not. 

The silence was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of Sam's phone Sam looked puzzled for a moment, but quickly found the phone hiding in one of his pockets and pulled it out.

"Hello?" Sam said questionably as he answered the phone. "Miss Crofton, yes hello." Dean's eyes snapped up in Mal's direction and saw the boy sitting unnaturally still in his seat, his eyes staring in the direction of the floor. "Today?" Sam said suddenly and looked at Bobby and Dean in turn. "Yes, I'm sure that'll be fine…we'll see you then." Sam put the phone down and ran a hand through his hair. "She's coming at around mid-afternoon today."

"Well, that was quick." Bobby said vacantly.

"What are we going to say to her?" Sam asked. The whole ordeal of the night before had clearly made him uneasy of the situation at hand.

"To go to hell." Mal said, raising his gaze to the men in front of him.

"I don't think she would take that the right way." Bobby said, a slight mocking tone seeping into his voice. "A simple 'hello' may be a better way to start."

Mal glared at Bobby and Dean was quite sure that if looks could kill, Bobby Singer would be a dead man.

"Mal?" Dean said, wanting to avert the teenager's attention away from Bobby. "Does she know about your…your…er…?"

"Demon-ness?" Mal said, raising his eyebrows at Dean, who nodded. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Bobby growled.

"I don't know, okay?" Mal exclaimed. "For all I know she could be fully aware or in complete oblivion. You pick."

"I don't think it's that simple." Sam said carefully.

"Well, make it that simple." Mal said weakly as he pushed himself to his feet and walked back outside.

"Sam, do you want to…?" Dean began, staring in the direction Mal had disappeared.

"You're the one with the experience. You're the big brother, remember." Sam said with a light chuckle.

"You're the one with the people skills." Dean argued.

"For crying out loud!" Bobby exclaimed before Sam had time to retort. "I'll go and talk to him then."

"I'm going, I'm going." Dean said quickly, knowing full well that even though Bobby was a great person, he was also a brilliant hunter, and those instincts were buzzing a bit too loudly when he was around Mal.

Dean walked out onto the sunlit grounds, blinking a couple of times against the blazing sun. He looked around and saw Mal sitting on the same bit of grass that he was on when Dean had found him earlier. He walked over and slumped down next to the boy.

"I'm sorry." Mal said quietly, glancing at Dean.

"You don't have to apologise." Dean said, finding the boy's exclamation perfectly understandable.

"It's just, my father wanted me to forget everything that had happened before I came to him," Mal continued as though Dean had not spoken, "and in the end I did. I honestly do not remember Alec Crofton."

"Well, you are Alec Crofton." Dean stated.

"Not anymore. For all I care, he doesn't exist." Mal said, returning his gaze to stare straight ahead.

"You know, I lost my mum too." Dean said, not really sure why he was saying this.

"I haven't lost anyone except myself." Mal said, his tone rising slightly, though he quickly looked worried and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, what happened to her?"

"She died when I was four. It was okay though; I had my dad and Sam. I mean, of course it was hard, it still is, but having them made it easier." Dean said, not caring if he was not giving all of the details. Mal did not need to know everything, only that having others helped.

"So, where's your father?" Mal asked the question Dean was hoping he wouldn't.

"He…er…he died a couple of months ago." Dean said and cleared his throat to stop any emotions that threatened to overtake him.

"It's weird, isn't it? I guess that you would love to have them both back?"

"Yeah, I would, but it's okay. I guess you would rather your parents weren't here?" Dean looked at Mal and found the boy staring at him, though Dean could not make out the feelings or emotions going through his head. "Why did your father want you to forget your mum?"

"Leave her behind. It helped actually. In the beginning it was a living hell, but in the end I just didn't care anymore." Mal said with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Do you remember anything about a brother?" Dean asked, remembering what Sam had told him after he had spoken to Miss Crofton for the first time.

"A brother?" Mal said, though his tone showed Den that the mention of a brother had sparked something in his memory. "No really."

"Well, I think you have one." Dean said.

"I don't really want one." Mal said, looking at Dean.

"I know that feeling, but once you've got one, you're stock with them." Dean joked.

Mal chuckled lightly and Dean realised that it was the first time he had seen the boy smile earnestly.

"He's not coming though, is he?" Mal asked, his face and voice suddenly serious again.

"Who?"

"The one who is supposedly my half-brother." Mal said sternly.

"Nah, I don't think so." Dean said, though he had no idea who was actually coming.

"Is there any chance that I can just make a run for it?" Mal asked, his voice quiet again.

"No." Dean said simply. As much as he wanted the boy to feel better he did not want him to think that he could simply run again. "Look, about last night –"

"Could we just not mention that ever again?" Mal pleaded, looking very embarrassed again.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about, you know?" Dean said, hoping that the boy would understand. "You can trust Sam and me."

"Really?" Mal said with raised eyebrows.

_Ah, the whole holy water incident still fresh in his mind_.

"Look, I'm sorry about all that with the holy water. We thought you might have been possessed." Dean explained.

"You can't just weasel yourself out." Mal said. "You could have just said 'christo'."

"True." Dean said, wondering how the boy even knew that before remembering that his father had most likely told him. "So, how much have your father actually taught you about demons?"

"Quite a bit." Mal said, though Dean thought that the answer was quite reluctant. "Don't give me holy water again."

"We won't, I promise." Dean said.

"It's just; I can't control the demon anymore when that happens. I can keep it at bay at most times, but not always."

"It was the demon we saw after the holy water incident, wasn't it?" Dean asked, though he thought that he already knew the answer.

Mal nodded. They sat in silence for a while, Dean pondering on how much Mal had actually said. Before the boy had said as little as possible, but now he had let out a lot without Dean having to press him for it.

"You know, I've been thinking about something." Dean said as he looked back at Mal who raised his eyes to meet Dean's. "How did you get out of the hospital?"

"That's when being able to change into a wolf comes in handy. The restraints weren't exactly made to hold a canine." Mal explained. "When you found me, I'd stayed in the wolf form for too long."

"What do you mean? I thought you said you could stay in that form forever."

"My father can, not me. The human DNA makes the change near impossible. Hence it is very painful and I can only hold it for about half an hour. If I go too far over that time, I can't breathe anymore; it's too much pressure on the lungs." Mal explained quickly, avoiding eye contact.

"Ouch." Dean said, trying to imagine what compressed lungs felt like, thought he thought that he had an idea after some of the close encounters he had had on the different cases. Maybe it came close to the pain of being electrocuted.

"Maybe not the exact word I'd use, but it will do." Mal said quietly.

"Are you nervous about later?" Dean asked glancing at Mal again who had started picking at the grass at his feet.

"No." Mal said. Dean looked round at him, not quite believing what he was hearing, but before he had time to answer Mal continued. "I'm terrified. She hates me, that's what I can remember. I remember her saying that we were going for a ride in the car just the two of us. We never did that anymore so I was so thrilled, I believed her. She drove for hours until we were in the middle of nowhere." Mal took a slow, shaking breath. "We waited by this thick woodland for a while until it was almost dark. Then she said that we were going to go for a walk. I got out of the car, but she closed the door and drove off."

Dean released the breath he had not been aware he was holding and swallowed, trying to get his bearings back.

"No mother would leave her own kid behind." Dean said more to himself than to the teenager beside him.

"Mine did." Mal said vacantly. "I'm sure of that; it is one of the things I remember before my father; one of the only things."

"What happened afterwards?" Dean asked.

"I don't know how long I waited by that woodland, but my father came in the end." Mal was silent for a moment before he continued quietly. "He was really kind, you know. I'd never really had a father and he fulfilled that role."

This scared Dean more than he would have first thought. He did not know why but he was determined to make Mal understand that a father's duty was not to inflict abuse on his own child.

"Mal, I want you to listen to me." Dean said, placing a hand on Mal's shoulder. He immediately felt the boy tense but he kept his hold. "Under no circumstances is what your father did to you acceptable. Do you understand?"

When Mal first did not respond, Dean gave his shoulder a light squeeze and the boy nodded slowly.

"It's just that sometimes, when he was really proud of me, he would hug me, and I would feel safe. Whenever he did that I felt safer than I had in my life."

"It still does not make up for what he did." Dean pressed on.

"I know." Mal whispered, his gaze dropping to the grass.

"Do you remember anything else about your family?" Dean asked, curious and worried about how effective the boy's brainwash had been.

I can't really remember names or events; it's just faces that pop up in a split second before disappearing again." Mal explained quietly, keeping his eyes on the cluster of trees in the distance.

"You don't trust people very easily, do you?" Dean said, keeping his gaze on Mal.

"No." Mal admitted.

"Why did you leave the hospital?"

"I can't…not now." Mal said, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to push himself to a stand.

"How's that shoulder?" Dean said as he too stood up, though with a bit more ease.

"It's fine." Mal retorted, a slight tone of irritation seeping into his voice.

"I…er…I noticed that you had taken the bandages off your wrists." Dean said slowly.

"I was tired of walking around looking like someone who had tried to commit suicide." Mal said as he took a few steps towards the house.

Dean accepted Mal's response and merely hoped that the gashes made in his wrists were healed. He thought that now was not the time to doubt the boy.

"I'm scared." Mal said suddenly before they reached the door to the house. "I'm scared that I won't be able to control the demon when she is there."

"You'll be fine." Dean said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "I'm sure you will be."

"Fat lot that helps." Mal murmured before he opened the kitchen door and walked inside.

"I guess we better do something about your appearance." Bobby said to Mal as Dean walked into the kitchen where Bobby and Sam were sitting.

"I didn't know it was a glamour competition." Mal said, his eyes sending daggers at Bobby.

"What I mean is that you don't exactly look like two FBI agents picked you up and are looking after you." Bobby explained.

"Oh, so you're the FBI as well then." Mal said with a look at Sam and Dean. "What's the next thing you're going to reveal, then? That Santa Claus really exists?"

"Very funny." Bobby said, though he did not sound amused. "The bathroom's upstairs.

With a final glare, Mal left the room.

"You can be nice to him you know." Sam said with a look at Bobby before turning to look at Dean. "Did he tell you anything worth repeating?"

"Oh yeah." Dean said before telling the other two hunters what he had just learnt.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: A HUGE apology for the long wait for this chapter. The whole family became ill over christmas and new year and then college has just started again with exams this week. But an enormous thank you to rholou for your lovely reviews! I will try to get the next chapter out quicker - promise!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Mal and...uh...the three more characters introduced in this chapter...

* * *

Mal looked at the reflection staring back at him in the mirror, trying desperately to recognise himself and forgive himself. His dark hair fell in strands around his face, his eyes darker than he remembered them. He looked wrong; he looked too much like his father for his own liking. This could not have been what he had become. He caught sight of a single tear that was making its way slowly down his cheek. It was only the first of many to come in the near future, he knew this and it angered him. He irritably wiped the tear away with his arm keeping eye contact with himself in the mirror.

His eyes wavered and instead rested on the bandage on his right shoulder. He raised his left hand and quickly tore it off, grinding his teeth together to stop any unwanted swearwords escaping. He dropped the stained bandage in the sink and looked at the stab wound in the mirror. At least the bleeding had seized a couple of days earlier, but the wound was still irritable and hurt to the touch. His eyes flitted to the various other scars covering his bare torso including the parts of his skin that had turned a mixture of green and purple from the broken ribs.

A few minutes later he stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to wash over him. He closed his eyes for a moment as he turned his head towards the spray, allowing the water to soak through his hair. He felt his heart rate start to increase as he thought about what he had just seen in the mirror. Was he becoming exactly like his father?

"_Why is that even so bad?_"

Mal snapped his eyes open and turned his head away from the spray of water. It was some time since he had heard the voice in his head. Why was it there now? Mal turned the water to the coldest it could be and gasped slightly at the sudden temperature change. He turned his back to the water and leant forwards slightly, balancing himself with a hand on the wall.

"_Come on…Look at me…_"

Mal blinked away the tears making their way into his eyes as he desperately tried to block out the voice echoing inside his head.

"_Look at me…_"

_No_, Mal thought grinding his teeth sharply together.

"_Come on…_"

"No." Mal whispered aloud.

"_LOOK AT ME!_"

Mal's body convulsed slightly at the sudden outbreak. The tears were now flowing freely down his face, though he desperately tried to prevent them. He punched the wall lightly to try and snap himself out of this state.

"_Alec…_"

"SHUT UP!" Mal screamed, momentarily forgetting that he was not the only one in the house. The voice was scaring him more than it had ever done before and he thought he knew why.

He shook his head and turned off the cold stream of water before stepping out of the shower. He hoped that the remaining occupants of the house had not heard his outburst. He did not need any more therapy sessions today. He could not understand what was happening to him lately. It was not like him to let anyone in on anything that went on around him. Not even Mike or Peter had been told of anything happening inside his house.

He guessed that what was bothering, or rather frightening, him the most was the thought of this Miss Crofton coming. His mother? They seemed so sure that he was Alec Crofton, but he had not dared let Dean in on everything that he remembered. How could he know if all of the memories were even real? He was afraid that even now he already found it difficult to control the inevitable darkness that was part of him, so he did not know how he could not let it come through when the woman showed up.

Yes, Alec Crofton was him, but not anymore. Alec Crofton could just as well be a different person to Mal. He could not remember ever having been called by the name; it was more like he had heard it said on a film or read it in a book. Maybe he was crazy. He had thought this some times before, but had refused to let himself sink that deep.

He took a deep breath before grabbing some clothes out of his bag. Once he was dressed again he looked at himself in the mirror once again, not overlooking the slightly bloodshed eyes which he was sure the others would not miss either. He threw some cold water on his face and rubbed his eyes. He assessed himself after drying his face and decided that it would have to do. His hair seemed a worse mess than before but at least it was cleaner.

A sharp knock on the door startled him, causing him to almost loose his balance.

"Everything alright in there?" Dean's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

Mal stood gaping at the door for a moment as he wondered if he could ever get a moment's peace in this house.

"I'm fine." Mal returned defiantly, hoping that his remark and tone would be enough to send Dean back downstairs.

"Sorry, we just thought we heard you shout." Dean's voice said apologetically.

"Well, you must have heard wrong." Mal said irritably as he opened the bathroom door with his bag in the opposite hand.

* * *

Dean could hear that the boy was shaken and as he was quite certain that he had heard Mal scream, or shout in the least, he figured that the two things were probably linked. When Mal walked out, Dean did not miss the haunted look in his eyes and the tentative way he held his right arm. Dean did not want to bring up anything that could send the boy into a tantrum, but he was worried about Mal's shoulder and hoped that Mal would allow one of them to check the wound before the relative arrived.

"How's the shoulder?" Dean asked as he made way for Mal.

"Same as the last time you asked." Mal said in a voice that clearly told Dean that he had to be careful with what he said now.

"I just meant –" Dean began before Mal interrupted him.

"I know what you mean," he said, "and at least I think it has stopped bleeding. I didn't re-bandage it."

"Do you think it needs to be?" Dean asked as they started making their way down the stairs.

"I don't really care," Mal said, but when Dean looked at him he added, "but, no, I think it will be fine…I'll check again later."

"You know that you don't have to carry that bag around with you, don't you?" Dean questioned as he listened to the thuds the sack made every time it hit a step on the stairs.

"Where else should I put it?" Mal asked as he stopped for a moment on the last step of the stairs.

"In your room." Dean suggested.

As the words left Dean's mouth, all the colour drained from Mal's face and he cast a quick glance up the stairs towards the room which he occupied.

"It's not mine." Mal said quickly with a look at Dean.

"Well, it's the room you're staying in." Dean reasoned.

"I'm not going to stay here." Mal said with an ironic smile on his face.

"You are for a while unless you want us to drop you back with Dr Roberts." Dean said, though he knew that it had been the wrong thing to say when Mal merely looked him in the eye with a vacant look and stalked past him.

_Dammit Dean! You really are an idiot sometimes._ Dean continued to curse himself as he made his way outside in the scrap yard where he knew Bobby and Sam would be. He found them both by an old truck where Bobby was half-hidden underneath it and Sam stood beside it looking at Bobby legs as though wondering how they ended up there.

"What happened to you?" Sam asked when Dean approached them. "You look like someone just screwed up the Impala."

"Nothing." Dean said as he slumped down on the bonnet of a car next to the truck.

"Where's the boy?" Bobby asked as he pushed himself out from under the truck and stood up.

"Probably gone to that patch of grass again." Dean said with a vague hand gesture.

"What the hell happened?" Bobby asked as he looked at the younger hunter.

"Nothing." Dean repeated irritably.

"Nothing seems to happen an awful lot around here." Bobby growled.

"Something I can do here?" Dean asked hoping to change the topic. It proved, however, that he was not so lucky. Just as he had finished speaking, Bobby gave a nod of the head towards the car that had just driven onto his property.

"Wow." Sam said quietly and Dean had to agree with him.

Dean was not sure if the Impala had ever looked as clean as the silver BMW was that had just parked near the front entrance of Bobby's house.

"I think you better get the boy." Bobby said to Dean and Dean could have sworn that the older hunter looked slightly nervous.

Dean sighed and looked at Sam for support.

"I think I better introduce myself to her." Sam excused but he did look sorry.

"Never mind, never mind." Dean murmured as he turned around and started walking round the house.

As he had predicted, Mal was sitting on the patch of grass where Dean had found him earlier that morning. He sat staring into empty space as the light wind wafted through his dark hair. He did not look up as Dean approached him, but instead looked down at his feet.

"I'm sorry about what I said." Dean said, hoping that the boy would accept his apology as now was not the right time for him to start getting depressed.

"It's alright." Mal said quietly. "I shouldn't have said what I said."

"Nah, that was okay." Dean said, wondering how best to bring up the topic that had brought him here. "I…er…"

"What?" Mal said worriedly and looked up at Dean.

"I guess it's show time." Dean said, cringing slightly at his own choice of words.

"What do you mean?" Mal asked before his eyes glazed over and he jumped to his feet, the truth dawning on him.

"Dude, come on." Dean pleaded.

"I can't." Mal whimpered, sounding almost like a small child.

"Mal, don't do this, please." Dean said, hoping that Mal would just come along quietly. "Just take a deep breath, okay?"

_I have no idea what I'm doing_, Dean thought desperately to himself, hoping that Mal would not pick up that vibe.

Mal nodded and walked with Dean round the house.

As they rounded the corner Dean saw Sam standing talking to a pretty young woman, her coloured-blonde hair in perfect curls, the flowery dress showing her curves beautifully. There was just one problem.

"I thought you said there wouldn't be any others." Mal said in an accusing, but terrified voice to Dean, as Dean's eyes lingered on the man who stood next to the women, also properly dressed, and the boy who looked to be some two or three years younger than Mal himself.

"I didn't know there would be any others." Dean whispered back truthfully.

"Alec?" The female voice made both of them turn their heads and look back at the company where Sam looked at them apologetically, though the rest of the company looked at Mal with great interest.

"Come on." Dean urged on in a whisper, hoping that he could get Mal to take at least a couple of steps towards the company.

"No way." Mal growled back. "I'm not going over there."

"Mal, please don't make this any more difficult than it already is." Dean begged, though Mal merely shot him a look of anger. "Look, I know that this is hard, okay? Please, just help me out here. Am not going anywhere; neither is Sammy, nor Bobby for that matter."

"You have no idea –" Mal began.

"Let's not do this now." Dean interrupted roughly.

Mal growled something that Dean could not hear and for a minute wondered if that growl was even meant to contain words understood by human ears.

"Alec?" Miss Crofton said again as she took a few steps towards Mal. Dean immediately saw the boy beside him tense up and for a moment doubted whether this whole ordeal had been the biggest mistake the Winchester brothers had ever made. "Alec; it's me." Her voice was almost too sweet for Dean's liking and she seemed more afraid than happy about seeing her long-lost son.

"Why don't we all just go inside?" Sam suggested as he too watched Mal's reactions carefully.

The adults agreed, though the other boy whom Dean suspected was Mal's half-brother, merely looked at Mal for a moment as though he was some alien who had just crash-landed on Earth, before walking after his parents into the house.

"I can't do this." Mal said, and Dean was surprised to hear how shaky his voice sounded.

"Mal? Mal, what is it?" Dean asked as he put his hands lightly on Mal shoulders, turning the boy to look at him.

"It all started with her." Mal said, as he looked up at Dean with tears in his eyes and Dean suddenly understood what all of his reluctance was about.

"I will not let her take you away and just leave you for your father to pick up." Dean promised him. "Mal, are you hearing me?"

Mal nodded and blinked a couple of times and Dean noticed that his fingers were wringing the hem of his jumper and he started to fear that Mal was drawing into himself like he had done when they first saw him at the hospital.

"Come on." Dean said quietly as he guided Mal towards the house.

* * *

Please know that I am not too proud to beg for reviews...please, please, please let me know what you think of the story. I promise that Mal's father will make an appearance soon. 


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: just to again say a big thank you to rholou!

Also, I've made another music video for this story. The link can be found on my profile page.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Mal and those other three people.

* * *

Dean kept a close eye on Mal as the three new arrivals sat themselves on the couch in Bobby's living room. Sam positioned himself on the chair opposite, though Mal lingered in the darkest corner of the room, and Dean started to fear that the boy would simply stay there for as long as he thought necessary. Dean remained standing in case the use of his legs would come in need, such as chasing down runaways. 

Bobby appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray filled with cups, plates with cookies, a can of tea and a can of coffee. Dean had to admit that he was surprised at how prepared Bobby had been for the relatives' visit – apart from being covered in car soot when they arrived. At least the elder hunter had had time to clean up a bit, though the usual worn cap was still sitting comfortably on his head.

The man of the party had introduced himself as Mark Sampson and father to Jesse, the younger boy. Working back, Dean realised that Mal would have had to have known Mark as he and Jennifer – as they had learnt was Miss Crofton's first name – had been partners on and off for the past fifteen years, though they had been living together since Mal's disappearance. It surprised Dean that a mention of the man had never come up in any of his conversations with Mal and wondered if Mal's father had been fully successful of wiping Mal's mind clean of at least one of the family members.

"So, Alec," Jennifer Crofton began in a sweet tone after an awkward silence, "how've you been?"

Dean could have sworn he heard Mal's teeth grind together, though the boy neither looked up nor spoke.

"Mal?" Dean prompted when Sam looked at him.

"Excuse me, Agent?" Jennifer said before Dean had a chance to get through to the boy.

"Dean, please." Dean corrected her with a flash of a smile.

"Dean," Jennifer continued, "why do you call him that? His name is Alec."

"No it's not." Mal suddenly growled from the corner. He had still not raised his head, but Dean was wondering if it was fear or anger holding him back.

"What do you mean, Alec?" Mark said in a tone that Dean knew was potential to set Mal up for a severe fit of rage. It was the kind of tone that doctors use on the mentally ill; that falsely sweet tone that Dean knew that Mal could not tolerate. Dean did not blame him; he hated that tone too.

"He's name is Mal now." Dean said before Mal answered, but Dean was now sure that it was Mal's teeth grinding together that he could hear.

"What was wrong with the name, Alec?" Jennifer asked so sweetly that Dean wouldn't have been surprised if sugar lumps had fallen out of her mouth.

"Why don't you ask father?" Mal said so quietly so only Dean could hear.

"Where've you been, Alec?" Jesse suddenly asked, though he seemed perfectly uninterested in what went on around him as he was busy spiking his dark brown hair up while attempting to see his reflection in the table.

"I think that's a story for another time." Sam said quickly.

"Why?" Jesse said as he looked up. "Is the story too long?"

Dean's greatest urge at that moment was to strangle the boy, but he refrained from doing so and instead looked at Mal who seemed to had drifted off into his own world.

"Give us a minute?" Dean requested as he gestured for Mal and the two other hunters to follow him back outside. It took a gentle hand on Mal's shoulder to steer him outside, but the four eventually got there.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked Mal as the boy looked around him as though utterly lost.

"Of course I'm not." Mal growled. "What am I supposed to say? The incompetent fools insist on calling me something I have not been called for four, nearly five, years and there seems to no end to their questions. She knows where I've been so why does she insist on doing this?"

"Mal, calm down for a second." Dean pleaded as the teenage boy started to look murderous.

"Look, kid," Bobby said, "How do you expect us to get through this if you have committed yourself to an act of silence? They're no exactly here to see us."

"They are not exactly here to see me either." Mal hissed, though his shoulders sagged slightly and for a moment he looked as vulnerable as he had looked when Sam and Dean first saw him in the hospital. "What do you want me to say?"

"You can either make up a story or tell the truth." Bobby suggested.

"Not even Mike or Peter were told anything about…about…" Mal said though he paused for a moment before continuing. "Thos people in there are not worthy of that tale."

"What happened in there?" Bobby asked the boy, who looked utterly bewildered. "You have clearly not lost your voice, but in there you barely said a word."

"I'm…" Mal began but looked completely lost for words.

"Bobby, Sam, can I talk to you for a moment?" Dean asked, feeling that there was something he needed to share with his fellow hunters. They nodded and walked with him a little further away from Mal and the house.

"What is it, Dean?" Bobby asked.

"He's scared." Dean said. "He told me before we went into the house. He links everything that happened with his father to her. According to him it all started with her."

"Of course." Sam said, a frown appearing on his forehead. "Because he connects his father with Jennifer Crofton he is afraid that history will repeat itself."

"Couldn't have put it better myself." Dean stated.

"What are we going to do then?" Sam asked.

"Help the kid the best we can I suppose." Bobby said. "He needs to say something to them, otherwise they will never leave."

"They are horrible." Dean muttered.

"I know." Sam agreed.

"They're not possessed, though." Bobby said. "I put some holy water in their drinks."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Dean mumbled as the three hunters turned around and started walking back towards Mal and the house.

Mal looked rather awkward as he stood in front of the house, looking mostly like a little boy who was lost. Dean supposed that, in a sense, he was.

"Do you think it would make things easier if we asked them to call him 'Mal'?" Sam asked before they reached the boy.

"I don't know how much of a difference it would make." Bobby answered. "I mean, as it is now he won't even look at them."

"True, but I don't think it helps that they keep calling him by a name he refuses to recognise." Sam argued.

"You can try to ask them, Agent Hamill, but I don't think they will do it." Bobby said with a hint of irony as he said the false name that Sam was using.

"You really don't like them, do you?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." Bobby said as Dean had predicted. "Do you?"

"No." Sam and Dean said in unison.

"I'm glad to know it's not just me." Dean muttered just as they reached Mal.

"Let's go back then." Sam said and attempted an encouraging smile.

"Can't you just talk to them for a bit?" Mal asked. "Bring some answers to some of their excessive questions."

"I don't know if they would accept that, kid." Bobby said as he walked past Mal towards the house.

In the end Mal reluctantly agreed to follow the three hunters back into the house, though he resumed his position in the dark corner of the room. When Dean entered he just saw Jesse pull the plugs out of his ears, though he seemed only marginally interested in what went on around him.

"Miss Crofton," Sam said, dropping back to a higher level of formality, "would you mind telling us when the last time was that you saw Mal?"

"Well, the last time that I saw _Alec_," Jennifer Crofton said, mildly correcting Sam, "we were going for a drive and then for a walk in the woods, but Alec went down a different path from me at one point and I haven't seen him since."

Dean glanced at Mal and saw that he was glaring at his mother with a look that scared Dean even after everything that he had witnessed. However, he understood Mal's rage. If the last thing the boy could remember of his mother was her driving off without him, then her account had a right to anger him.

"And you couldn't find any sign of him?" Sam pressed on.

"No." Jennifer said quietly. "I called for help but even though every last bit of the woods were searched, then there was no sign of my boy."

Dean glanced at Bobby and they shared eye contact for a moment. Dean recognised the look that Bobby wore on his face. It was the look that gave away that Bobby thought that the speaker was telling a pack of lies.

"When can we take Alec home?" Mark asked. The question startled Dean, but he was even more surprised when it was Mal who answered.

"Alec can come with you now, but I'm not going anywhere where you are going."

"Whatever do you mean, boy?" Mark asked.

Dean cringed at Mark's words as he had a feeling that what Mark had just said was probably the worst he could have. Dean looked across the room to Mal, who surprisingly did not look about to explode with rage. Mal opened his mouth to answer, but he never uttered. A dog was barking some way off, but otherwise nothing could be heard. Dean looked closer at Mal and saw that the boy had blanched and his hands were shaking.

"I am not going anywhere with you." Mal said, desperately trying to keep his voice steady.

"Can I have a word with you in private?" Jennifer asked with a look at Mal.

"No." Mal said defiantly, his tone clearly stating that he would leave no room for arguments.

"Let me talk to the boy, Jenny." Mark said more as a command than as a request.

* * *

Mal felt as though a heavy load had just landed on his shoulders. He raised his eyes and found Mark standing in front of him, looking down on him. 

"_Coward…_"

He knew he was. He was scared as he had always been and now he did what he had found was the easiest way out when he was scared: he gave up. He did not want to fight the fear that kept growing in. Why should he when it was so much easier to simply be consumed by the fear.

Mal let his eyes drop again and vaguely heard Mark say something before he found himself walking back outside. He blinked slightly against the evening light that brought him slightly back to reality.

"Alec." Mark's voice said somewhere off to his right, though the voice that had spoken the name earlier kept echoing in his mind. "What is up with you, boy?"

The words brought Mal back to reality and found Mark's face mere inches from his own. Mal quickly scrambled backwards as images of previous events flashed in his mind.

"I know you've been gone for a while, but why won't you talk to your mother?" Mark continued in a quiet though rather threatening tone.

"Stop it." Mal pleaded and his voice sounded childish to his own ears.

"Stop what, Alec?"

"All of it!" Mal cried. "Get the hell away from here! You have no business coming here." Mal thrust his arm in the direction of the drive as emphasis, though what he did not realise was that his wrist was suddenly exposed from under the sleeve of his jumper.

"What's that?" Mark said as he made a move towards Mal.

"What's what?" Mal asked, his voice shaking slightly, as he backed up.

"Your wrists." Mark said and before Mal had realised what was happening Mark had grabbed hold of both of his arms and was holding the wrists out before him revealing the healing wounds.

"Get off of me!" Mal shouted and tried to yank his arms out of Mark's grasp.

"Alec, stop it!" Mark shouted back. "What the hell did you do to yourself?"

With a cry of anger, fear and frustration Mal pulled his arms out of Mark's grasp and quickly back up until his back ended up against the side of the house. The blood pounded in Mal's ears and his heart was racing. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing but the breaths would only come in short, ragged intakes.

"What's going on here?" Bobby's voice sounded and Mal opened his eyes to see Bobby standing a bit behind Mark.

"Why didn't anybody say that the boy had tried to kill himself?" Mark demanded and as he spoke the rest of the occupants in the house filed out.

"Shut up!" Mal screamed, falling to his knees on the ground. He could feel the tears pressing on his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

"Mal!" He heard Dean's voice and footsteps approaching, but he would not let them get near him. He pushed himself up and backed further away.

"Why Alec?" Jennifer asked with a serene look on her face, though Jesse suddenly looked interested.

"Get out of here!" Mal shouted, though his cracked.

"What happened to you?" Jennifer asked as she took a few steps towards Mal.

"Stop it!" Dean shouted.

The voices started to blend together with the voice in his head until they were nothing but inhuman noises that surrounded him.

"Please stop it." Mal pleaded as he again fell to his knees. He put his hands over his ears to try and block out the voices but still they continued. "SHUT UP!" Mal screamed in a last attempt to get all of it to stop. It did.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Thanks so much to rholou and Larania47 for their amazingly kind reviews!

Sorry, this chapter is only from Mal's POV. :-) I hope you don't mind...

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or its characters even after...well...18 chapters, but I still own Mal and those lovely relatives. ;-)

* * *

A dull ache ran through his entire body and his eyelids felt heavy. His head felt as though it was on fire and when he tried to move his limps they felt as though they were made of lead. Something wet was put on his forehead and immediately cooled the throbbing pain. Mal attempted to open his eyes and sit up though a gentle hand on his chest pushed him back into the pillows. The room he was in was lit only by a dim lamp and otherwise was in a soothing darkness. 

"How're you doing there, kid?" A voice grunted somewhere to his right. The wet cloth was removed from his forehead and the fire returned almost spontaneously.

"What happened?" Mal said, though his voice was hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

"You gave us all a right scare, that's what." The voice said and Mal recognised it as Bobby's. "You fell to the ground clutching your head and then passed out. You should have seen Dean; I haven't seen him so worked up in quite a while."

Mal closed his eyes again, hoping that it would soothe his head. It did not help, though Bobby seemed to understand what was going on as the cloth was replaced feeling cooler than before.

"Are they still here?" Mal asked as the earlier events started to come back to him.

"Yeah, your little stunt did not really make them any more eager to leave." Bobby said. "I could have sworn that kid looked more interested than he had at any other point." Bobby was quiet for a moment and Mal reluctantly opened his mind to see what he was doing, but only found the hunter looking at him with a look that could represent concern, but he couldn't be sure. "How is your breathing?"

"In and out?" Mal suggested, not quite sure what Bobby meant.

"Only, before you passed out you had a kind of fit or something." Bobby explained, making Mal feel rather embarrassed. Not only had he passed out with a grand audience he had also decided to have a fit at that moment. "Don't worry too much about it." Bobby continued as though he had read Mal's thoughts.

"How long have I been here?" Mal asked, hoping that Bobby would give him an answer that would make his embarrassment even worse.

"Only about an hour or so." Bobby said, removing the cloth from Mal's head again, though this time the burning sensation did not come back as quickly and when it returned it was not as bad as before.

"Can I get up?" Mal questioned, hoping that the hunter would let him leave the bed. He was getting sick and tired of ending up in a bed one way or another.

"Just wait a bit." Bobby said as he got up from the chair he had occupied and walked towards the door.

"Where're you going?" Mal asked, feeling his voice sounding rather childish.

"To see what your pestering relatives are up to." Bobby answered with a wink of the eye.

Alone in the room, Mal started to feel rather uncertain. He did not understand the feeling, but he supposed that the events of only a couple of weeks previous were still taking their toll on him. He closed his eyes and felt a pleasant darkness overtake him.

The next time he woke he was alone in the room which he now recognised as the one that they called his own. He sat up in the bed, hoping that his head would not start getting dizzy. His wish was granted and he slowly started to make his way out of the bed and putting on his shoes which were placed by the foot of the bed.

"Mal?" Dean's voice sounded from the doorway just as Mal straightened up. No sooner had Mal turned his head than Dean was in the room with a concerned look on his face.

"I'm alright." Mal reassured him before Dean even asked.

"You had us all freaked out there, dude. Even your relatives." Dean added and Mal couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the man's tone.

"So what do I do now?" Mal asked, feeling rather lost at how best to return to the presence of the three others.

"Go back with your head held high." Dean said with a flash of smile.

"That's a cheesy catchphrase." Mal said vacantly.

"Yeah, I know." Dean admitted as he turned around and started walking towards the door. He stopped just as he reached it and turned his head around to look at Mal. "You coming?"

"Yeah." Mal said reluctantly and followed Dean out of the room.

His feet dragged along the floor on his way towards the stairs and as he started to descend them his head felt slightly heavy and he grabbed the banister tightly for support.

"You okay?" Dean questioned as he reached the landing.

"Yeah." Mal said again.

Mal took a deep breath outside the living room where he could hear the voices coming from. He unconsciously let a hand move to his hair and ruffle it through. He was about to enter the room when the voice of Jennifer Crofton reached his ears.

"I would like to talk to him in private."

"That is more up to what he wants to do, Miss Crofton." Sam's voice answered her.

"Considering you're the FBI you are in charge of him as it is, so couldn't you just tell him to talk to me?" Jennifer said with certainty in her voice.

"I will not order him to do something he does not want." Sam responded and as far as Mal could tell he was getting angry.

"Mal?" Dean said quietly from beside him. Mal had entirely forgotten he was there for a moment as he had been lost in listening in on what the others were saying.

"I'll talk to her." Mal said hoarsely, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He did not want to, but how else would they ever get them to leave? "In private."

"Are you sure?" Dean said, a confused look on his face.

Mal did not answer but merely nodded, hoping that he would not have to argue. Dean told him he would send Miss Crofton to the kitchen, so Mal slowly began to make his way.

His feet felt heavy as he made his way towards the kitchen and for a moment he wondered whether he should have gone out of the bed that early. He did not quite understand what had happened earlier but he supposed it had something to do with an inner battle with the demon that got a bit out of hand. He pushed the door open to the kitchen and walked inside pondering on how long this day had been. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had first met the hunters. He still found their occupation bizarre but not unlikely.

He did not want to seem vulnerable when Jennifer Crofton entered the kitchen but his head suddenly felt so dizzy that he decided that it would not hurt if he sat down. He rested his head in his hands, pressing the palm of his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the mist that was swirling in his mind.

A door closing with a sharp snap made him look up quicker than his head would have wanted, blurring his eyesight for a moment. When his sight cleared he saw his mother standing with her back against the door, her perfect blonde curls around her shoulders. Mal could feel his heart starting to bang hard against his chest, and he tried to calm his breathing which had already started to draw in with difficulty.

_Calm down for goodness sake you coward_, Mal thought desperately.

"Hi there, Alec." Jennifer said, again in that sweet tone that Mal was starting to despise. "So you decided to see me. I'm glad you did. How're you feeling?"

Mal did not answer at first as he assessed the tone she was using until he remembered that she too had believed what Mark had thought. Neither Sam nor Dean had probably dared to tell them anything of what had really happened. Mal did not feel like sharing either, but he knew that something had to be said.

"Fine." Mal said through gritted, not really feeling that this was the response that would get her to leave the quickest.

"Where've you been?" Jennifer asked as she walked further into the kitchen.

Mal could not help but sneer slightly at her comment.

"You know where've been." Mal growled at her and for a moment he wondered whether he had actually let the wolf growl with him a bit.

"Oh, Alec –"

"Stop calling me that!" Mal yelled at her jumping up from the chair thrusting it to the floor. "My name is not Alec! Not anymore."

"Stop saying that." Jennifer said taking a step towards Mal. She was smaller than he remembered, but he supposed it had to do with his height difference rather than hers.

"Why? Why should I tell you to stop using a name on me that was successfully wiped from my mind?" Mal yelled at her and before he knew it he had advanced on her and had her pinned to the wall, his hand on her throat.

"Alec?" She gasped and Mal looked into her eyes for a moment, but he saw nothing. He let he go with a cry of frustration and turned his back on her. Jennifer was leaning heavily on the kitchen table, massaging her tender neck. "What happened to you? She croaked after a moment's silence.

"It's all your doing." Mal said quietly, still with his back to her.

"How can it be my fault?" Jennifer questioned, straightening slightly.

"You were the one who left me with him." Mal snarled and turned his head to look at her.

"With who?"

"Stop playing with my head!" Mal shouted as he swirled around towards her. "I know what happened. You contacted my father before driving to that woodland. You abandoned me by that forest; alone, only to be picked up by a man I had never met. You have no idea what I've been through!"

"What are you talking about?" Jennifer said with a light chuckle.

"Don't you dare deny what you did!" Mal screamed at her jumped towards her again, though this time she backed up.

"He was a good man." Jennifer whispered, tears shining dimly in her eyes.

"A good man?" Mal breathed. "Is that all you have to say for yourself? After everything he did?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Alec."

"Stop calling me Alec!" Mal exclaimed, slamming a fist into the wall beside her head. He could feel all of the anger he had felt in all of the years with his father in those few weeks he had had without him starting boil up inside him.

"Okay! Okay." Jennifer agreed, her voice shaking slightly.

Mal backed slightly away from her, allowing her to come down a bit from the wall.

"Now, are you going to tell me why you tried to kill yourself?" Jennifer asked with a renewed sense of confidence.

Mal felt the bubble of rage explode inside of him and words started to pour out of him.

"I did not try to kill myself! I only tried to stay alive. That _man_ you put me with spent the last week I was in his care torturing me half to death in his own basement. That _man_ that _you_ put me with spent all of the years I was with him giving me a lesson the hard way. You learnt never, _never_ to do the same mistake twice. Now…what was good about that man? Why did you do that to me? Did you really hate me that much? Or was it all down to Mark and Jesse. Mark couldn't stand me, could he? So when I started acting strange it was easier to ship me off to the father I didn't know than trying to work things through. You disgust me."

Mal gasped slightly, feeling like a part of him had been torn away leaving a dark hole inside of him that he did not know how to deal with. He started to feel red hot tears pressing on his eyes the same time as his legs started to give way. He only just managed to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs before his legs felt like blocks of lead that would not hold his weight.

"Alec?" Jennifer said quietly. "Mal?"

"Please just go." Mal begged quietly, his back to her so she could not see his face where the tears were pressing harder than ever.

"Would you please just look at me?"

Mal did not respond and did not turn around.

"I'm sorry." Jennifer whispered. "We love you; all of us."

"Just go." Mal said, just managing to keep his voice steady.

His mother did not respond but he when he heard the kitchen door close after her, he his face in his hands and allowed the tears that he had been holding back to fall.

* * *

You now that review button is there, so please give it a go and press it. You never know if something magical is going to happen. :-) 


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Thanks so much to rholou, Ghostwriter and 4everdreaming for reviewing the last chapter! Virtual cookies to all of you!

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or it characters, but Mal and the other characters you do not recognise belong to me. ;-)

* * *

Dean heard the kitchen door close and was very surprised to see Jennifer Crofton walk into the living room with tearful eyes.

"We have to go." Jennifer croaked, keeping her eyes astray from the other occupants in the room.

Dean did not wait to see the family's response but instead ran towards the kitchen and flung the door open. Mal was sitting hunched over on one of the kitchen chairs, his back to the door, and his head in his hands. Dean could hear the boy desperately trying to hold back tears, though the sobs coming from him among the shaking shoulders was unmistakeable. Dean carefully hurried forwards and crouched down in front of Mal who still had not acknowledged Dean's presence in the room. Dean put a hand on each of the boy's shaking shoulders, careful not to frighten him.

"I couldn't control it." Mal whispered through his sobs, his hands still covering his face. "I was so angry and I couldn't control it."

Dean hushed him, hoping to make him understand that he was not to blame.

"It's okay. We all get angry at some point or another. At least it seems as though she finally decided to go away."

As Dean finished, Mal shrugged Dean's hands off and stood up, removing his hands from his face. The boy looked positively haggard. He reminded Dean more of a walking corpse than anything else.

"She didn't know what he had done." Mal whispered, leaning his head against the wall, his back to Dean. "She honestly believed that he was a good man. Maybe he was when she met him. Maybe he still was when I was with him and I was just a big screw-up."

"Mal, no." Dean said quickly moving towards Mal. "You did nothing wrong."

"How do you know? You were never there." Mal exclaimed quietly.

"It's not your fault." Dean said, trying to get through to the boy somehow, though it seemed that Mal had build up a wall himself that was near impossible to penetrate.

"Just leave me alone for a bit." Mal said, and being careful to keep his back to Dean he made his way outside.

Dean let him be. Sam would most likely tell him off for not going after him, but Dean did not want Mal to feel as though he was being constantly watched. As far as Dean could tell, this was not something Mal enjoyed.

Instead Dean slowly made his way back towards the living room. He stopped before he reached his destination and instead fished out the keys to the Impala from his coat pocket. He needed to go somewhere. At the moment he did not really care where, but everything with Mal had finally taken it toll on him as well. He hurried out to the Impala, passing the silver BMW that was still parked in front of the house. He savoured the sound of the engine as he turned on the ignition. It was not long before he was speeding down the road away from Bobby's house, _Metallica_ booming loudly from the stereo.

Some twenty minutes later he stopped in a small village and went into the nearest bar. He sat staring at the beer he had ordered for a long time, wondering why it was he had left the boy when the relatives were still there. He tried to find a good reason but the only thing he could come up with was that he needed some space for a while. He was jolted out of his thoughts when his phone rang.

"I'm okay, Sammy." Dean reassured his brother as soon as he answered the phone.

"_Where did you go_?" Sam asked a worried tone in his voice.

"I…er…just needed some space for a bit, Sam." Dean said honestly as this was the only reason he seemed able to come up with. "Those relatives still there?"

"_No, they just left actually, but don't get your hopes up; they said they were going to get a motel room nearby_." Sam explained.

"How's Mal doing?" Dean asked as a touch of guilt started to make its way into his stomach. "Is he still outside?"

"_Was that where you left him? Because, yes, he's still there. Do you think I should try and talk to him_?" Sam asked.

"Leave him be for a while." Dean assured his brother. "I think he just wants to be alone for a while – think this through."

"_Okay; when are you coming back_?" Sam questioned and Dean could hear his brother's anxiety.

"I won't be long, Sammy."

"_It's Sam_."

"Right you are." Dean answered, a smile appearing on his face as he pressed the button to end the conversation and put the phone back into the jacket pocket.

Dean took a sip of his beer and looked ahead for a moment, lost in his own thoughts.

"Just a beer please." The man who had just sat down next to Dean said in a British accent. Dean glanced at him, taking in the coal black hair that reached his shoulders, the black leather-like clothing and his almost canine profile which highlighted his handsome features.

Dean returned to his beer, but just as he started to drift off into his own thoughts again, the man turned to him and spoke.

"Pretty calm out here."

"Yeah." Dean agreed with him. "Are you from England?"

"Yes, originally I was, but this has been my home for many years now." The man answered, taking a long draught from his beer. Dean found it hard to place exactly how old the man was. Taking in his features Dean would have put him in his mid-thirties, though his eyes could easily have been younger, but at the same time older.

"What are you doing in this desolate part then?" Dean asked.

"I'm just passing through." The man answered, a tuck at the side of his mouth. "You?"

"Just visiting a friend." Dean replied, feeling satisfied that this was not a complete lie. Bobby was a friend and he and Sam were visiting him in a way.

"The name's Kaloc, by the way." The man said, reaching a hand across to the Dean.

"Dean." Dean answered as he shook Kaloc's hand.

Kaloc straightened again and for a moment Dean had the feeling he had met the man before, though he assured himself that it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

"Have you got any children, Dean?" Kaloc asked after a few moments silence.

"No, my job does not really allow too much time for a social life." Dean said, again satisfied that this was not too much of a lie either. "What about you?"

"I have a son." Kaloc said and was silent again for a moment before he continued. "He's seventeen soon."

"They get a bit complicated that age." Dean said as he thought of Mal and how Sam had started rebelling at that age.

"Oh it starts before that." Kaloc answered him before taking another draught of his beer. "They should become a man soon at that age; leave the boy behind."

Dean figured that he and Sam had left the boy behind a lot sooner than seventeen due to their hunting training.

"You married then?" Dean asked Kaloc who seemed to had found his glass rather interesting.

"No, it's just me and my boy." Kaloc said and took another drink of his beer. "Or it used to be anyway."

"What happened?" Dean asked, looking back at Kaloc who turned to look at him.

"He was taken from me." Kaloc answered him, a cold tone entering his voice.

For a moment Dean did not know what to say but he could feel his hunter instincts picking at him irritably.

"By who?" Dean questioned.

"I always thought you to be a smart man, Dean Winchester." Kaloc said, a mocking tone to his voice. Dean froze, completely unable to think or move. "I want my boy back Mr Winchester."

Kaloc rose from his seat and walked out of the bar. Dean scrambled to his feet and hurried after him, feeling for the gun he hoped that he had grabbed. He felt the cool shaft tucked into his jeans against his back as he ran outside and looked around. Kaloc stood leaning casually against a tree some forty meters away and Dean hurried over there, ready to grab the gun at the right moment.

"There will be no need for the gun, Mr Winchester." Kaloc said as Dean was halfway between Kaloc and the bar. Dean swore inwardly and removed his hand from the gun shaft.

"May I guess," Dean said as he reached Kaloc, "you're Mal's father."

"I must say I'm impressed – you figured it out in the end." Kaloc answered in a patronizing tone keeping his cold eyes on Dean.

"Get out of here." Dean snarled at Kaloc, though the demon merely chuckled.

"I want my son back." Kaloc said. "You have no idea what could happen to him if I don't get him back."

"You just stay the hell away from the boy!" Dean yelled at him.

"You seem to believe that I am to blame for my son's condition." Kaloc said incredulously.

"Who else should be to blame?" Dean inquired, taking a step closer to Kaloc, whose eyes reflected the moonlight, giving their colour a misty look.

"My son has problems, Mr Winchester." Kaloc sighed. "Hallucinations, denial, all those kinds of things."

"Are you trying to make me believe that he only imagined being tortured?" Dean exclaimed, drawing his gun on Kaloc.

"No, he did not, but I was not to blame." Kaloc said, seemingly perfectly calm to have a gun pointing at his face. "I love my son, Mr Winchester. He was taken away from me for twelve years. Try and imagine how you would feel if your brother was taken away from you for twelve years and you had no chance to see him."

Dean felt a cold stab in his heart at Kaloc's words, but quickly pushed the feeling away. He could not let Kaloc's words get to him.

"You're lying." Dean stated, raising the gun.

"About what, Dean?" Kaloc said in a cold tone though he stayed by the tree.

"Mal told us everything about you." Dean said, knowing that it was not entirely true, but Mal had at least given them the basics.

"I told you that he's got some problems. That is why I am rather concerned." Kaloc said. It infuriated Dean beyond reason how the man continued to deny the facts.

"Are you trying to make me believe that he is crazy?" Dean questioned, making sure his feet were planted firmly on the ground in front of Kaloc.

"If you must put it that way." Kaloc answered, raising his eyes to meet Dean's.

"He told us what you are Kaloc." Dean sneered.

"Pity." Kaloc said, though he almost sounded amused. "It must be rather infuriating for a demon hunter to have to have a sixteen year old child point you towards the demons."

"Go to hell, Kaloc." Dean growled.

"Been there." Kaloc sighed.

"Well you better be prepared to get back there." Dean threatened.

"I am the kind of demon that can come and go as I please." Kaloc said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean was starting to get rather confused on how best to handle the situation. It worried him that Kaloc seemed so perfectly calm.

"Don't you dare come near Mal." Dean warned, cocking the gun into place.

"You let his mother come." Kaloc said, looking straight at Dean. Dean swallowed hard as he tried to keep the gun steady. "Are you wondering how I knew? I have been following you ever since you arrived in that godforsaken town back there. Remember the sweet motel owner's cat? Well, it was not exactly the motel owner's cat."

Kaloc smiled mockingly at Dean who was beginning to feel his heart race against his chest. How could he not have thought of any of this?

"Just leave Mal alone; for his sake." Dean said, trying to divert the conversation away from his own stupidity.

Before he knew it Kaloc had given him a hard blow to the head, making the gun fly out of his hand. He landed on the ground on all fours and quickly pushed himself into a stand. Kaloc stood before him, a cold expression on his face.

"I want my son back Mr Winchester." Kaloc said calmly though a threatening tone was evident in his voice.

"Not going to happen." Dean said with certainty, readying himself for Kaloc's next attack. However, when Kaloc advanced on him he was unable to block one of Kaloc's blows that sent him back towards the ground.

"I'll make it simple for you, Dean," Kaloc hissed in his ear, "if you don't hand Mal over I'll make sure that Mal will regret your choice."

With a cry of rage Dean elbowed Kaloc hard in the stomach and jumped up from the ground.

"You leave him alone!" Dean yelled and flung a fist in Kaloc's direction, which he avoided. Kaloc backed up slightly and eyed Dean.

"I'll give you one last chance." Kaloc said threateningly. "Give me my son and nobody gets hurt."

"It's not going to happen, Kaloc." Dean said through gritted teeth.

"Your choice." Kaloc answered and Dean witnessed something he had never seen before in his life.

Kaloc jumped at Dean though what made contact with Dean face was not a fist but claws and teeth. He tried desperately to try and push the black wolf off his chest but it continued to bite and claw at him. He could not help the screams escaping him, but the wolf continued to claw at his face and chest.

The weight shifted from his chest and was finally removed. Dean rolled to his side and started coughing. He could taste the metallic taste of blood and spat out a bit of blood on the ground. His eyes rested on the black paws that stood a mere meter from his face. Dean raised his face slightly to see the snarling black wolf staring at him, its eyes shining brightly in the moonlight. Dean was beyond frightened. He did not know how to deal with this. His gun was far out of reach and every time he moved his limps ached. The wolf snarled once more at him before turning away and rapidly disappeared into the darkness.

Dean pushed himself to a standing position with the aid of the tree Kaloc had leant against earlier and looked in the direction the wolf had disappeared. He brought a hand to his forehead only to have it stained with blood when he removed it. He swore loudly and made his way slowly towards the Impala; though his legs threatened to give way under him with every step he took.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Thanks so much to rholou and Ghostwriter for reviewing the last chapter! You're great guys!

Disclaimer: I do not own the show or any of its characters, but the characters which are not from the show are all part of my twisted imagination.

* * *

Dean stumbled out of the Impala and shakily started to make his way towards the front door of Bobby's house, moving at an immensely slow pace. Dean knew that he was usually not one to complain about how he felt, but he had to admit he was not feeling too good at the moment. He could feel warm blood trickling down his face and chest, but he tried to ignore it and instead fixed his energy upon getting inside.

He grunted slightly as he dragged himself up the front steps and leant heavily against the front door for a moment. He was angry with himself for letting his guard down. He should have realised there was something inhuman about Kaloc; he should have listened to his instincts. Dean was relieved to find that the front door had not yet been locked, and he walked into the house, leaning against the door for support as he did so.

"Dean, is that you?" Sam's voice called from the kitchen as Dean closed the door.

_Crap. The hope of slipping past unnoticed has just been dashed._

"Yeah, Sam, it's me." Dean called back as loud as he could muster, though his voice sounded peculiar to his own ears. _No doubt Sammy heard that too_.

Dean dragged his feet towards the kitchen, passing a mirror on the way. He stopped and stared at his reflection. No wonder it felt rather painful. His face was covered in cuts and scrapes, some longer or deeper than others. His shirt, which was now decorated with rips and tears, had miraculously changed colour to a dark hue of red, though mainly in stripes and blotches. Dean feared that he would probably scare the hell out of the others; he only hoped that he could talk to Bobby and Sam without Mal's presence.

He sighed and took the last few steps towards the kitchen, opened the door and walked inside.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked immediately and jumped up from his chair.

Dean noted that Mal was standing in a corner of the kitchen, white as a sheet, looking utterly shocked. Dean hated to have to get the boy out but he feared it would only complicate matters if he were to tell of the events with Mal in the room.

"Out." Dean said, pointing towards the kitchen door, his eyes on Mal.

Mal looked jolted for a moment, but did not need telling twice. He quickly and quietly made his way past Dean who closed the door behind him.

"I think you better sit down." Bobby suggested with a worried look at Dean.

Dean contemplated the idea for a moment before making his way towards a chair and sat down. Sam did the same and once he had sat down he fixated his anxious eyes on Dean.

"I'm okay, Sam." Dean assured him even though he had to admit that was a bit of a lie.

"Yeah, you really look it." Bobby said sarcastically.

"What happened?" Sam asked again.

"I had a little run-in with Mal's father."

At Dean's words the whole kitchen grew silent. Bobby and Sam shared a quick look before looking back at Dean.

"You look like hell." Bobby said as though he had only just really looked at Dean, but Dean thought that he had to agree with the elder hunter.

"His name is Kaloc." Dean grunted.

"Did he just tell you that?" Sam asked, looking slightly confused.

"He came into the bar I was in and we talked a while. I didn't realise it was him." Dean quickly added when the other two opened their mouths to interrupt. "He knew perfectly well who I was. He has been following us, Sam, ever since we first came to the town to see Mal at the hospital."

"So, how did you end up looking like this?" Sam said, clearly as affected by their stupidity of not being on their guard as Dean was.

"We went outside when he told me who he was." Dean explained. "He wanted Mal back. Well, that was after he tired to make me believe that Mal was completely off the rocket. I wouldn't give him Mal, so I suppose I pissed him off. He warned me that someone would get hurt if I didn't hand Mal over, but it was worth it."

"You look like crap, Dean." Sam said.

"Yeah, I know, but at least he didn't get Mal." Dean answered. No matter what the others thought, he was satisfied that he had not backed down. "He's English."

"Who?" Bobby asked.

"Kaloc. Mal's father." Dean answered irritably. "Just a way you can recognise him."

"Thanks for the heads up, brother." Sam said with a light chuckle.

"I think I better go and get cleaned up." Dean muttered.

"So," Sam said, a serious tone to his voice again, "how did Kaloc do this to you?"

"The big bad wolf. Mal was definitely right about him turning into animals." Dean answered as he dragged himself out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

When Dean reached the top of the stairs he noticed that Mal's door was closed and for a moment wondered whether he should talk to the boy, but figured it would probably be better if he cleaned up a bit first. Dean walked into the bathroom after having grabbed some clean clothes, and looked at himself in the mirror. _Yep, I definitely look like shit._

He was very careful when he pulled off his shirt, biting his lower lip as he did so. His chest was not much different from his face, though the clothes had clearly helped to resist the force of the wolf's claws and teeth. He dreaded feeling the water on his chest, but reluctantly stepped into the shower. He swore quietly as the water ran through the numerous cuts and scrapes on his face and chest, but after a while he found that the water helped numb the pain.

After his shower, Dean had to admit that he did not look as bad as he had before. The water had run through the wounds, cleansing them of dried and fresh blood. He contemplated for a while whether he should simply go to bed and get some rest, but he figured that he should probably let the others know he was still alive.

"So, what were you guys up to while I was being eaten by a wolf?" Dean asked as he entered the kitchen and resumed his seat with the others.

"Not that much." Sam said.

"We talked to the kid." Bobby answered.

"How's he doing?" Dean asked, feeling the guilty feeling creep back into his stomach.

"I daresay he has been better, but it's a bit difficult to say with him." Bobby responded. "I think he likes to pretend all the bad things never happened."

"You're probably right." Dean said and thought that he better ask the question that had been on his mind for a while now. "Do you think I should ask him to talk about what happened in the basement and the hospital?"

"You can ask all you want, but I don't think you'll get an answer." Bobby said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"It would probably do him good to talk about it." Sam said, ignoring Bobby's comment. "I don't think it's healthy for him to just store it all inside."

Dean slowly nodded, but stopped again when his head throbbed slightly.

"I'll tell you what though," Dean said, breaking the lingering silence, "you don't want to get on the bad side of Daddy Johnson."

"We could kind of tell." Sam said with a look at Dean.

"Do you have any food in this house, Bobby?" Dean asked, raising his gaze to the various cupboards.

Dean woke later than he usually did the next morning. He supposed most of it had to do with the fight the day before, but he was pleased to see that at least he looked more alive than he had the previous night. The dark circles that had appeared under his eyes later at night had more or less disappeared and the cuts and scrapes had started to heal nicely.

Before going downstairs, Dean stopped by Mal's room and with a quick knock he entered. Mal was sitting in a chair facing the window, and he did not look round at Dean as he entered but merely continued to gaze outside.

"It was father, wasn't it?" Mal said dully before Dean had a chance to speak. "Last night I mean."

"Yeah, it was." Dean said, feeling that now was not the time to lie to the boy. Dean realised that Mal had probably known it had been Kaloc Johnson from the moment Dean had set foot in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry." Mal mumbles, shifting his gaze to the floor.

"What are you sorry about?" Dean questioned. "You're not exactly the one who did it."

"He didn't try to eat you, did he?" Mal asked, a worried tone to his voice, though Dean could not help but smile slightly at the comment.

"No, he did not try to eat me. At least I don't think so. I think he was just a bit pissed."

Mal nodded slowly but still did not look round at Dean.

"Do you want to come downstairs?" Dean asked. "Get some breakfast?"

"You don't blame me for what happened?" Mal asked as he finally looked round at Dean.

"How could I blame you? I'm a bit annoyed with myself for getting my ass kicked before I kicked his, but, no, I don't blame you." Dean said, feeling a bit worried about the boy's incredible ability for blaming himself for everything.

Mal looked slightly surprised but merely nodded. He pushed himself out of the chair and made his way downstairs, Dean behind him.

"You looked like shit last night." Mal mumbled when they had descended the stairs.

"Well, thank you." Dean joked.

After breakfast they found Bobby and Sam in the scrap yard, Bobby clearly trying to get Sam to hand him a tool, but by the looks – and sounds – of it Sam kept handing him the wrong one.

"Is it this one, then?" Sam asked just as Dean and Mal reached them.

"At last." Bobby growled and grabbed the tool before disappearing behind the bonnet of the car.

"You look a bit better." Sam commented with a look at Dean.

"Thanks, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Whatever, Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean noticed that Mal had been watching the exchange with interest and mild amusement.

"Do you want to go for a drive?" Dean asked, casting a glance at Mal.

"What?" Mal said, all amusement wiped from his face.

"A drive, in my car." Dean explained quickly as he grabbed hold of the Impala's keys.

Sam shook his head slightly, though he looked rather amused. Mal agreed, although he looked slightly confused as they made their way towards the Impala. Dean was relieved to see that he had managed to avoid smearing blood over the Impala and padded the wheel affectionately.

"Cool car." Mal said as he closed the passenger door.

_You are a lovely teenager_, Dean thought as he happily drove away from Bobby's house, _Black Sabbath_ echoing from the stereo.

They had been driving for some ten minutes or so when Mal rolled down the window and stuck his head outside.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked when Mal dragged himself a little further out of the seat.

"Getting some air." Mal said simply, but to Dean it looked more like the boy simply enjoyed the speed of the car combined with the force of the wind.

When the window was safely shut again and Mal was back in his seat, Dean settled for talking harmless talk with the boy. It was after a lengthy discussion of music that Mal broke the silence.

"I'm sorry I never answered your questions at the hospital."

"What questions?" Dean asked, trying to remember what exactly it was he had asked the boy.

"About what my favourite colour is and my favourite type of car. All of those." Mal explained and continued when Dean nodded. "I just had no idea, but it got me thinking. I was clearer in my mind after that because I had something else to think about. So, I guess I just want to say thanks."

Dean was slightly stunned for a moment before he answered.

"You ran away later that day."

"I had things to do." Mal said simply.

"What kind of things?" Dean pressed on, hoping that Mal would not feel too much pressure from the question.

"I wanted to get away. I knew it couldn't be long before my father came and I couldn't just lie there and wait for him." Mal explained. He fell silent again and looked out of the window for a moment before continuing. "What did he want last night?"

"You." Dean said honestly. "But don't worry; as long as I'm around, nothing bad is going to get to you."

Dean felt a pang of guilt at his own words as he vaguely remembered promising Sam the exact same thing and how many times had Sam been hurt even though Dean had been around?

"You know I'm not going to stay here forever, right?" Mal asked, he both looked and sounded worried when he looked at Dean.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, casting a glance at mal before turning back to the road.

"I can't stay here with you and Sam and Bobby forever." Mal said quietly as he looked down at the Impala's floor.

Thought that Mal would simply wander off had not really reached Dean before now. True he had been worried about Mal running away, but he had never really given a thought to what would happen later.

"Where are you going to go?" Dean asked and cleared his throat.

"I don't know yet." Mal admitted.

"Do you know when?" Dean questioned.

"No." Mal fell silent again and gazed out of the window for a while. "It's just…I'm so afraid to stay in the same place for too long now. I don't really want to live with my father again."

"I understand." Dean said, though he felt slightly puzzled. "I don't expect you fancy living with your darling mother again."

"No." Mal said again, returning his gaze to the floor.

"So, will you say goodbye before you leave or are you just going to go?" Dean asked, unsure why he felt he needed to know this.

"I have always been bad at goodbyes." Mal said quietly as he looked back out the window.

The rest of the drive was not as pleasant as it had been before the last conversation. Thoughts were now racing constantly through Dean's mind and he kept wondering if he should ask Mal what he would do if they killed Kaloc. However, somehow he did not think that it would make Mal feel any better, as no matter how much of a monster Kaloc was, he was still Mal's father.

Dean pulled the Impala up outside Bobby's house and turned off the engine. It was suddenly very quiet inside the car when the engine had stopped roaring and the stereo had stopped playing. Dean was about to get out of the car when Mal spoke.

"I won't leave yet."

"I'm glad to hear that." Dean said truthfully before he got out of the car. His head was spinning slightly after the drive and Dean wondered whether it was because of the conversation with Mal or the after effects from the fight with Kaloc.

Mal too got out of the car and they slowly made their way towards the house.

"It must be nearly lunchtime." Dean said happily as he opened the front door and walked inside, Mal behind him.

"Do you ever –"

Mal stopped mid-sentence, a look of pure terror on his face. Dean was about to ask him what was wrong when he too saw what Mal was looking at. There were blood smears running through a broken window and along the floor towards the kitchen. Dean put a finger to his lips and pulled out his gun, all the time his heart was hammering hard against his chest. Dean moved cautiously towards the kitchen, keeping Mal behind him. He reached the kitchen door where the smears of blood led to and gently pushed it open.

Lying on the floor in front of them was the mutilated body of one of Mal's friends, Peter Williams.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: I am so sorry about the MEGA long wait on this chapter. My pony became increasingly ill throughout January and had to be put to sleep in the beginning of February. I completely lost my muse for writing, but it is slowly coming back now. Again, sorry about the long wait.

Disclaimer: still not mine - even after such a long wait! Well, except Mal...oh and Kaloc.

* * *

Dean looked down at the mutilated body of the boy before him. His eyes were empty and staring lifelessly at the ceiling of the kitchen. A small thread of blood was dripping from Peter's half-open mouth and was making a small puddle that was joining with the rest of the blood on the floor around the body.

Dean's first thought was to find Sam, but he forced himself to look at Mal. The boy had gone completely white, his eyes fixated on his friend on the floor before them. Dean could hear Mal's breath catching in his throat and he knew that he had to do something about him before he went on the quest to find Sam and Bobby. He gently grabbed hold of Mal and, with some difficulty, steered the boy in the living room and sat him down on the couch.

"Mal, look at me." Dean tried, pushing the boy's chin up a bit but to no avail as Mal's eyes still seemed to be seeing Peter's body. "Mal, listen to me. Stay here. Don't go anywhere. I have to find Sam and Bobby."

There was still no reaction from Mal, so Dean took a tighter hold on his gun and started making his way out of the living, calling Sam's name, hoping desperately that his brother was alright.

"Dean?" Sam's voice came from behind the closed door leading to Bobby's study.

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked immediately, fearing the worst.

"We're both fine, Dean." Sam assured him.

"The door's locked." Bobby's gruff voice said from behind the closed door.

"Get back." Dean ordered, taking a step back from the door and when Sam shouted his approval, he planted a firm kick to the door. He repeated this twice more before the door finally gave way.

As Sam and Bobby stepped out, Dean was relieved to see that they were not bleeding excessively from anywhere and both looked to be well enough. Sam looked at Dean for a moment before he spoke.

"Where's Mal?"

"He's in the living room." Dean said as he started making his way back towards said room. "What the hell happened?"

"From the description you gave us, I think it was Mal's father." Sam said.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that with the whole body in the kitchen." Dean answered.

"There's a body in the kitchen?" Sam asked looking taken aback.

"Remember Mal's friends?" Dean asked and when Sam nodded he continued. "It's one of tem; the dark haired one."

"What?" Sam exclaimed.

"You didn't know?" Dean said, realising that Kaloc had probably got rid of Sam and Bobby before dragging the body inside. It seemed that the show had been for Dean and Mal, not the others. The thought made Dean feel nauseous.

"No, I mean Mal's father came, and the next thing we know, we're in the study." Sam explained in a rush.

"Dean, how could you leave Mal alone?" Bobby asked suddenly.

"I was a little concerned about you guys." Dean defended himself, though feeling rather guilty as he realised that Bobby was right.

The three of them entered the living room and Dean was worried to see that Mal had indeed stayed in the exact position that Dean left him. It was not long before Bobby and Sam had armed themselves. Sam stood next to Dean, who was standing a bit away from Mal, eyeing him wearily.

"I can't see any trace of him in the house." Bobby said as he walked back into the living room after having taken a walk around the house. He joined Sam and Dean who still had not moved and Dean could see from his face that he had probably gone near the kitchen at one point. "Are you two just going to stand there all day?"

Dean knew what Bobby was implying and he could see why. Mal was still incredibly pale and his eyes staring straight ahead. What worried Dean the most though, as that the boy's breathing had worsened, nearing hyperventilation.

"Sam, help me here." Dean requested as he finally rushed forward to try and calm Mal. Dean crouched down in front of the teenager and put a hand on his shoulder as he whispered his name.

"Get off of me!" Mal yelled suddenly, throwing Dean off and jumping off the couch. He ended up in the corner of the living room; that dark corner which he by now had spent too much time in.

"Mal, I'm sorry." Dean said as he got up from the floor and started walking slowly towards Mal, but the nearer he came the more the boy tried to back up into the wall.

"Kid, relax for a moment." Bobby attempted, but from the look on the hunter's face, Dean could see that he knew that what he had just said would not give much meaning to the boy.

When Mal was finally unable to back up any further he got a look of utter defeat on his face and let his body slide down the wall, ending up sitting on the floor. Dean neared him cautiously; aware of the vulnerability the boy was feeling right now. He could feel Sam nearby and held a hand out behind him to signal to his brother to wait. Dean sat down next to Mal and watched as the boy desperately tried to breathe normally, though his breaths kept catching in his throat.

"Try and take a deep breath." Dean said calmly, though his heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour. Mal, however, did not oblige to Dean's suggestion. "Mal, look at me." Mal kept his eyes closed, but Dean could tell that if he did not start breathing normally he was sure to pass out. "Mal, look at me." Dean repeated, though this time a bit louder and with a bit harder tone. Mal's eyelids fluttered slightly and he moved his head in Dean's direction. "Take a deep breath, alright."

Mal looked at him for a moment and it was clear to Dean that he certainly did try to get his breathing back under control and after a while he did seem to breathe a bit easier.

"Better?" Dean asked.

"It's my fault." Mal said vacantly, ignoring Dean's question.

"A guilty conscience never helped anyone, kid." Bobby said, looking at Dean as much as Mal.

"How touching."

At the sound of the new voice, Mal's breath caught in his throat once more and he jumped to his feet, again trying to get further back against the wall. Kaloc was standing in the doorway to the living room, leaning casually against the frame. Dean raised his gun and fired without even thinking about it. However, Kaloc had seen Dean's movement and had just managed to move out of the way, the bullet only grazing the upper part of his left arm.

Bobby and Sam raised their guns too and aimed them at the demon.

"I did warn you, Mr Winchester." Kaloc said calmly in his British accent, his voice too calm for Dean's liking.

"You didn't tell me you were going to kill an innocent boy, Kaloc." Dean growled, getting up from the floor and taking a few steps towards Kaloc.

"All I wanted was my son and I needed your attention." Kaloc said, his gaze moving to Mal. "And there he is."

"You leave him alone." Dean threatened, raising his gun a little higher.

"I get the feeling that my message has not quite come across to you yet." Kaloc answered, his voice colder than before as he took a step into the living room. "I am getting my boy, whether you like it or not and I will get him back using any means necessary."

"You son of a bitch." Dean growled and he heard Bobby growl something that would have earned a hard slap from a mother.

"Mal," Kaloc called, having only chuckled slightly at Dean's comment, "I believe that your other friend – what was his name? Michael? Well, I believe that he must be very lonely by now. Maybe it would be nicer to just put him out of his misery."

"NO!" Mal screamed loudly from behind Dean and before Dean knew it Mal was between the gun and Kaloc. Dean jumped forward and wrapped his arms around Mal's chest, pulling him away from his father, though he was doing everything he could to free himself from the firm grasp.

"Good luck with cleaning up the mess. There will be more coming your way." Kaloc said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Sam! Bobby! Shoot him!" Dean yelled, doing it himself an impossible as he had to focus his energy on holding Mal back.

Gunshots rang through the room, but Kaloc had disappeared. Bobby and Sam ran from the living room, undoubtedly to try and catch up with Kaloc.

Mal's weight in Dean's arms brought his thoughts back to the boy, who had stopped fighting and instead felt suddenly heavy. Dean guided him down on the floor and turned Mal's face so he could see the boy's eyes. He looked on the verge of giving up everything.

"Let him take me…please." Mal croaked, his eyes now moist with tears he did not try to hold back.

"No, that is not going to happen." Dean said firmly. "Are you listening to me? I am not letting him take you; nor are Sam and Bobby."

"What about Mike then?" Mal whispered, the tears now starting to make their way down his face. "Peter…Peter is…gone. Peter is gone…"

Dean was not sure if it was what the boy wanted, but it looked like it was what he needed, so Dean pulled Mal into hug. At first Mal resisted but Dean held on, allowing the boy to grieve. Dean did not understand how he had suddenly become one to hand out hugs and be the shoulder to cry on, but he supposed it was the big brother kicking in.

Bobby and Sam came back shortly after with a grim look on their faces and when Dean looked at them with a questioning look Sam shook his head. Dean would have sworn loudly had he not been holding onto Mal. It angered him beyond reason that Kaloc had got away again.

It was a few minutes later that Mal finally pulled away from Dean and dragged his sleeve across his face to remove the tears that lined his face, though his eyes were still red and moist. He cleared his throat and Dean was worried for a moment that Mal was going back to being as embarrassed about everything as he had been after the night Dean had comforted him from his nightmare.

"I have to go." Mal said in a hoarse voice as he pushed himself up from the floor on shaky legs.

"No you do not." Dean said quickly.

"Dean's right," Bobby said, "we all have to go."

"What?" Dean questioned with a look at Bobby.

"We're not leaving another kid to die, Dean." Bobby said in his gruff voice.

"I wasn't planning to." Dean defended himself.

"Mal, can you handle a weapon?" Sam asked holding out a gun towards Mal.

Mal looked at him for a moment before grabbing hold of the gun and nodding.

"Are you sure?" Bobby asked, looking at Mal with a worried gaze.

As if to prove his point, Mal walked over to the window, opened it and pointed to the square piece of wood nailed to a tree which Bobby used for target shooting. It was a good way off, but Mal raised the gun and fired.

"Wow." Dean breathed when the bullet hit centre.

"Can we go now?" Mal said impatiently, though he still looked ready to break down any minute.

"Anything you guys need?" Dean asked looking at Bobby and Sam. Sam looked lost in his own thoughts, a frown appearing on his forehead. "Sam?"

"Why would he tell us what he was about to do?" Sam said, looking mostly like he was merely thinking aloud. "What if this is just a trap? I mean, they're looking for you in that town Mal."

"I don't care." Mal snarled back at Sam.

"I don't think that's true." Sam continued.

"Tough." Mal hissed as he tried to get past Sam, but his way was blocked.

"So let me get this straight," Sam said, looking down at Mal, "you don't care if you end up back in that hospital with restraints and being constantly drugged? You don't care if you end up back in the cellar of your house to be tortured to your father's content?"

"Stop it." Mal pleaded, looking utterly helpless once more.

Dean shared a look with Bobby who looked as anxious as he felt. In a way Dean knew that what Sam had said needed to be said in order for Mal to understand, but he was afraid that the words hit too hard.

"So you do care?" Sam said, but he did not look as if he expected an answer.

"You don't know what happened." Mal said suddenly, his voice shaking even though he tried to keep it steady.

"We could build a pretty unpleasant picture from how you looked in the hospital." Sam answered.

At the moment Dean felt completely confused. He had no idea what to do or who to support. What Sam was coming onto was probably the most important thing for Mal to talk about, but also the topic that Mal was most defensive about.

"We don't have time for this!" Mal yelled, trying to change the topic.

"It is not going to help Mike one bit if we arrive and you go charging in." Sam said in a hurried voice.

"I was not going to go charging in." Mal snarled.

Before any of them had time to retort the sound of a car outside made all of them rush to the window and look out. The silver BMW was parked in front of Bobby's house and Jennifer Crofton along with Mark and Jesse were making their way out of the car.

"No." The four in Bobby's house said.

"What are they doing here?" Mal asked, looking worse than before.

"I have no idea." Sam answered as there was a knock on the door. "Come on; we better hurry."

"I'm not going out there." Mal said suddenly as the other three started making their way out of the living room. Dean had a feeling that it was not so much the relatives that made Mal so reluctant as it was Peter's blood that still ran in smears along the floor leading to the kitchen.

"We'll go out the backdoor." Dean said.

"Through the kitchen? Great plan." Mal said sarcastically though his voice was shaking again. Dean wanted to kick himself for being stupid enough to suggest that they go through the backdoor.

"Window then?" Dean suggested.

The others nodded, each of them stuffing their gun into their trousers as they made their way out of the living room.

"Wait a minute." Bobby said as he walked towards the kitchen.

"What's he doing?" Mal gulped, clearly trying to tear his eyes away from the hallway leading to the kitchen.

"I don't know." Dean admitted.

A minute or so later Bobby came back carrying a few small bottles and boxes.

"Holy water and extra ammo." Bobby explained briefly.

"Just keep the holy water away from me, will you?" Mal said as he took a step back.

"Promise." The three hunters said.

"So, are we planning on just slipping past the relatives?" Sam asked.

"Yes." Dean and Bobby said in unison.

"Definitely." Mal added.

The four of them, once outside, went as quickly and quietly as could around the house, but when they rounded the corner of the house, Dean realised the flaw in the their plan.

"Guys? Slight problem. Anyone else notice where the Impala is parked?"

The Impala was parked only about ten metres away from the BMW, making it near impossible to get to it without being noticed. A few swear words and sighs erupted form the others as they too noticed what Dean was saying.

"Hello?" Jennifer Crofton's voice came as she continued to knock on the door.

"Does she ever give up?" Dean asked in a whisper.

"I guess we will just have to go for it." Bobby said.

"What about your truck, Bobby?" Dean asked, looking at the older man.

"It's not working properly. Sam and I were working on it this morning." Bobby explained.

"If Sam was there that's probably why it's not working." Dean said, though Sam merely glared at him.

Mal cleared his throat and looked at the three hunters.

"You're right." Dean said as he dug out the Impala's keys from his coat pocket. "Come on."

The four of them walked round the corner of the house, immediately catching the attention of the relatives.

"There you all are!" Jennifer said, beaming. It seemed as if she had completely forgotten the events of their last visit.

"Miss Crofton, this really is not a good time." Sam said as they continued to walk towards the Impala. "We really have to go."

"Go? Go where?" Jesse asked, looking rather interested.

"Somewhere that's not here." Sam said vaguely.

"That's usually what happens when you go somewhere." Jesse replied.

"Yes it is and that is what is happening now." Sam answered as they reached the Impala.

"We just wanted to talk to Alec for a moment." Mark said, walking slowly towards them.

"Get in the car." Dean hissed at Mal who did not waste any time getting into the backseat.

"We were wondering if we could take him home with us today." Jennifer said as she joined Mark.

"Not today, we have some work to do. I'm sorry." Sam said as he dived into the car.

Bobby had reluctantly taken to the backseat next to Mal and Dean was behind the wheel.

"Go." Sam said as soon as he was sat in the passenger seat.

"No problem." Dean said as he quickly got the Impala started and drove onto the road.

"I guess we just have to hope they don't go sniffing around." Bobby said.

The other agreed except for Mal who had gone quiet again as he sat staring out of the window.

"Mal, does your father have a car?" Dean asked.

"I would think he travels as a horse. He doesn't usually drive anywhere." Mal answered though he did not turn away from the window.

"Hold on tight." Dean warned as he put the pedal to the floor and the Impala sped forward.

* * *

Please feed the muse! 


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: A big thanks to my awesome reviewers who reviewed even after such a long update! So, to make up for the huge wait on the other chapter this is the longest chapter yet in _Abstinence_. You may decide individually whether that is a good thing or a bad thing.

Disclaimer: For the twenty second time: I do not own _Supernatural_ or its characters, but strangely enough Kaloc and Mal are still all my invention...uhh and Mike too.

WARNING: Violence and mild language in this chapter.

* * *

An eerie silence accompanied the interior of the black Chevy Impala as it sped through the landscape as though the devil himself was on its tail. The car had been on the road for a good hour now and its occupants all took the pressure on them differently. Sam had taken to fiddling around with his phone as his laptop had been left behind at Bobby's house. Bobby seemed positively anxious, but whether it was about Mal or the whole ordeal in general was unclear to the others. Dean concentrated on driving and had refrained from putting any music on in kindness to the others. And Mal, he simply sat completely still, looking out the window at the early darkness that had started to spread. 

"So, Mal," Bobby mumbled after another five minutes of silence, "how're you holding up?"

Dean looked in the interior mirror of the car to see the backseat. Mal did not move away from his position at the window and when he responded his voice was strangely vacant.

"I'm fine."

Dean was certain that his brother also saw the similarity of the boy's speech to when they had first met him at the hospital. It worried Dean that it seemed that Mal was starting to tuck away everything that had happened over the course of the last few hours inside of him.

"Does anyone have a good plan on what to do when we get there?" Dean asked, remembering that this was an area they had omitted to discuss.

"Find Mike." Mal suggested blankly, his eyes still fixed to the window.

"Do you know where he lives?" Bobby asked as he took his gun out and started checking it over.

"Of course I do." Mal returned, a note of slight irritation in his voice.

"Okay, so we go there and check that he's okay and then we find Kaloc?" Sam suggested.

"It's a vague plan." Dean said. "But I guess it will have to do."

"Hey, kid, do you know how fast that father of yours can travel?" Bobby asked, tucking the gun back into his trousers.

"I think about a bit faster than a normal horse." Mal said, glancing briefly at Bobby.

"Let's go and get Jolly Jumper." Dean said as he saw a sign informing them they were nearing their destination.

The rest of the drive was conducted in silence. Dean did not really expect to see Kaloc on the way but that did not stop him from keeping a lookout. Dean was still not sure whether or not it had been a good idea to bring Mal. Sure the boy knew the town better than them, but he also had more baggage. Dean knew that he had to be careful with caring too much for people, but he feared that Mal would be taken by Kaloc or somehow end up in the hospital.

A thought that also frightened him was that any of the three could get hurt. Sam was still his little brother and he did not know what he would do without him. Mal was still so vulnerable. True he had recovered faster from his injuries than Dean would have thought likely, but he supposed that came down to the demon in the boy. However, his mental state had clearly not recovered. The look of pure terror he had worn on his face when he saw Kaloc still stuck to Dean's mind. There was another thing that had started to creep slowly into his mind: would Mal really be able to kill his own father if it came down to that? No matter what, Dean was sure that nothing good could come out of it. When they had spoken to Mal about his father with Bobby, Mal had seemed reluctant to accept that what Kaloc had done was simply not acceptable.

When they finally arrived in the town and were able to get out of the car, the sky was pitch black and clouded over, giving them little light to go by. Dean tossed a flashlight to each of them hoping that they were not too late. Mal had gone completely silent and did not speak when Bobby asked him to lead the way. Instead he took a few steps forward, turned his head as though to see they were still there before walking on again.

Dean stayed close to him, not wanting the boy to feel alone. They walked quietly through the streets, keeping their eyes and ears open for any sign of Kaloc or Mike. The streets were relatively empty, save for a few people out to do their last minute shopping before the shops closed. Mal led them down a narrow walkway with towering walls on either side that made his hunter instincts pick at him.

"Well, I'll be damned." The voice of a young man rang through the walkway. Dean turned around along with the others to see a group of about seven or nine boys and young men standing in a clot a little further up the way they had come. The one who had spoken seemed to be the leader of the little gang and as he stepped forward the others stayed behind. "If it isn't the infamous Mal Johnson. Last I heard you were missing."

"Leave me alone, Turner." Mal called back and turned his back to the group and started walking away from them.

"We heard you were in the hospital." Turner called after him. "Did daddy give you two many hugs?"

Laughter erupted from the gang as Mal stopped dead in his tracks. Dean signalled to Sam and Bobby to continue walking.

"Come on." Dean murmured as he put a hand on Mal's back to get him moving.

"Are you scared of us, Johnson?" Turner shouted. "Do you want to call your daddy?"

"Just keep walking." Dean said as Mal's shoulders started to tense up.

"Hey Johnson! Johnson! I'm talking to you!" Turner yelled and they could hear the footsteps of the gang as they continued walking. "Hey, who are your friends anyway? Don't tell me you're taking a liking for the guys now! New way of earning money?"

Mal turned his head to look at Turner and Dean could feel his anger. He wanted nothing more than to smash Turner's face in but hoped that they could just walk away as it would save them a lot of trouble. They could hear the boys behind them laughing about something before Turner spoke again, though he was laughing at the same time.

"Hey, Johnson, don't forget to save us a ride! Unless it's all for your daddy!"

In mere seconds Mal had thrown Dean off and had torn after Turner and when the three hunters turned to see what happened they saw Mal pinning Turner to the wall by his throat.

"Come on, Johnson," Turner said, clearly trying to keep some status in front of his gang, "we're only fooling around. I mean, everyone knows that your dad beats the crap out of you."

"You have no idea what I have been through!" Mal yelled, slamming Turner harder into the wall. The three hunters hurried towards him having been momentarily stunned by the turn of events. "Just stay the hell away from me!"

Mal released Turner, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"Mal, are you alright?" Dean asked as he reached Mal. Turner had dragged himself up from the ground and was looking at them, the rest of the gang fallen silent.

"Guess it's true then," Turner said and Dean wondered if he ever gave up, "you are a complete freak."

Before Dean knew what he was doing he had planted a hard punch to Turner's face sending him to the ground once more.

"Let's go." Dean said as Turner started getting up slowly, though this time they were not followed by any remarks as they went.

"You alright, kid?" Bobby asked when they were a good distance away from the gang.

"Fine." Mal mumbled.

"Who was that?" Dean asked, earning a glare from Sam.

"The Other gang." Mal replied quietly.

"You're kidding me." Dean said. "That's the people you, Mike and Peter were up against?"

Mal nodded. Dean noticed that he once again had his head hanging low, allowing his hair to fall forward so they could not see parts of his face. They walked on in silence until they came to a row of semi-detached houses, where Mal stopped in front of one of them.

"It's that one." Mal said as he pointed to the house.

"Wait here or hide somewhere for a minute." Sam said as he walked up to the front of the house, and knocked on the door just as the three behind him slipped in to the shadows. The door opened to reveal a woman in her late forties with dark blonde hair which reached just below her shoulders.

"That's Mike's mum." Mal informed them. From where they were standing they could not hear what Sam was saying but they all saw her smile before Sam walked away and she closed the door.

"Mike's in the house." Sam said as he reached them.

"Well, I guess that's at least a relief." Dean sighed, feeling some of the weight lift off his shoulders.

"I guess we should just stay around here to make sure Kaloc does not turn up." Bobby said, leaning carefully against a telephone post.

"We better make ourselves comfortable then." Dean said as he lowered himself onto the pavement.

"Guys? No offence or anything, but you're not exactly inconspicuous like that." Mal said with a shrug. "If we go down here we can watch the house without looking like complete psychos."

Mal walked a little further down the street before turning round the corner of a high planked, wooden fence. The three hunters followed him quickly, realising that the boy probably had a point.

As they rounded the corner after Mal they found him sitting on a rock boulder in a complete mess of weeds and long grass. This was apparently the messy area that nobody bothered to look after, and the fence divided it from the relative tidiness of the street. Dean lowered himself onto a rock next to Mal, Sam placing himself on the other side. Bobby was peering through a crack in the fence that clearly showed the front of Mike's house.

They sat in silence for a while, Mal picking at the grass and Sam fiddling with his gun. Bobby was still keeping his eyes locked to the house and Dean was starting to wonder if the hunter was even blinking. Dean watched Mal for a moment as the boy continued to pick at the grass. The eldest Winchester brother felt uneasy of what had just happened in the walkway and really wished that he did not feel as if he had to bring it up.

"So," Dean said, keeping his voice relatively quiet, "what happened…back there with Turner, it –"

"I'm not gay." Mal interrupted defensively.

"I was not saying you were –" Dean began, aware that Sam and even Bobby were watching the conversation.

"Then what?" Mal hissed, cutting Dean off again.

"What he said, about you dad…" Dean said, desperately trying to find the right words. "Did…er…did he…?"

Mal glared at him for a second before turning back to picking at the grass.

"If there is something you want to say, just spit it out." Mal mumbled, now picking at this grass a bit more vehemently.

Dean looked at Sam for a moment, who turned his eyes to Mal.

"I think," Sam said carefully, "what Dean is trying to say is whether or not your dad…er…" Sam paused for a moment, but Mal did not look at him. "Look, we know that your dad abused you in the sense of hitting –"

"– and stabbing." Mal added.

"Yes, that too." Sam answered, trying to keep his voice level. "Did he abuse you in the way that Turner was hinting?" Sam asked finally.

"My father," Mal said, keeping his voice emotionless as he continued to pick at the grass, "is not a sick man…or demon-thingy…whatever. No, he would never do something like that. He could get any girl he wanted without trying too hard."

Dean released the breath he was not aware he had been holding, in the relief that the topic was out of the way. He had felt compelled to ask, but had found it awkward to find the right words. He also felt relieved that at least that was one less thing Mal had had to go through in the cellar, though Dean knew he was far from knowing what had really taken place and why.

"Mal, could I have a word for a minute?" Dean asked after a few minutes silence. Mal did not answer but merely pushed himself up from his position on the rock and moved away from the others. Dean followed him until they had put a bit of distance between Sam and Bobby.

"What?" Mal muttered, his eyes flicking briefly to Dean's before looking back down at his toes again.

"I just…I want you to know that I am really sorry about Peter." Dean said hesitantly.

"Not your fault." Mal mumbled, his eyes still downcast.

"Not yours either." Dean answered.

"You sure about that?" Mal said, raising his eyes to Dean's again.

"Yes, I am absolutely certain." Dean said in what he hoped was an assuring voice.

"Well, I'm not." Mal said quietly, letting his gaze drop again.

"Yeah, I had a feeling that was the case." Dean said with a small smile, though it was rather forced. "It's not your fault, you know."

"How could it now be my fault?" Mal said, still in a very quiet voice. "I mean, if he had not been my friend, he would not have died. If I had been a bit more careful, he would not have died. If I had just gone to my father, he would not have died."

"Mal, all of those 'if's' are something you cannot change. And even so, you can't know that the outcome would have been any different."

Mal seemed to chew on that thought for a moment before he spoke.

"I didn't even care to those I left behind." He said, his voice shaking slightly. "I just didn't want to end up in that basement or the hospital again. So I left, without a care in the world what happened to those I left behind."

"That's not true." Dean replied quickly. "Remember when we were at the hospital?" Mal nodded. "You were planning on leaving that night and you asked Sam and I to look after Mike and Peter. You did care. If anyone's to blame it's me. We did not check up on them like you asked us as we just didn't think about it."

"I don't blame you." Mal said, his eyes still turned towards the ground.

"Would you blame us instead of yourself?" Dean requested. It was not that he was exactly jumping for joy at the thought of being blamed for the death of a sixteen year old boy, but he needed Mal to take the blame off himself.

"No." Mal said firmly.

"Mal, please just stop blaming yourself." Dean pleaded, crouching down in front of Mal. Mal's eyes flickered to his for a moment before avoiding contact again. "I am rubbish. I have tried for years – all my life really – to keep Sam safe, but occasionally I screw up and he gets hurt. That's just how it works."

"Are you telling me that you would not blame yourself if your brother died?" Mal asked, his eyes resting on Dean again, longer than before.

"I…er…you got me there." Dean admitted, though he was determined not to let this drop. "I don't want you to work yourself up too much."

"I have had two really great friends in my whole life." Mal said, sounding more emotional but at the same time firmer than before. "Now one of them is dead and the other may die tonight and if he doesn't I can't even see him because that would most likely throw me right back into the hospital."

Dean did not know what to say. He did certainly not want to end their conversation there, but at the same time, had no idea what to say. What Mal was saying was true, and Dean felt sick thinking about it.

"I'm sorry." Dean said finally, looking up at Mal in the hope of catching Mal's eye from his position on the ground.

"So am I." Mal said quietly, though he did not raise his gaze.

"Guys?" Bobby called, keeping his voice relatively quiet.

Both Dean and Mal looked up immediately and hurried over to Sam and Bobby who were both looking through the crack in the fence.

"What is it?" Dean demanded as he reached them.

"The kid's leaving the house." Bobby growled.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Dean exclaimed quietly as he too looked through the crack and saw Mike make his way out of a window and down to the ground via a tree.

"I told his mother to watch out because of a gun threat in the area." Sam said, looking positively shocked.

"Sam, he is a teenager. If he wants to leave, he will leave; with or without permission." Dean reasoned and watched as Sam shrugged in response.

"Come on." Bobby said as he hurried along the line of the fence and round the corner, the other three following close behind. They followed Mike for about five minutes before Mal stopped suddenly.

"What?" The three hunters asked, a confused expression on each of their faces.

"He doesn't know Peter is dead." Mal said quietly. "He is most likely on his way to meet him."

"Where did you normally meet?" Dean asked.

"Only about five to six minutes from here." Mal answered. "I just thought that maybe it would be easier if we knew where he was going."

"Probably does." Bobby said before hurrying after Mike again.

Dean watched Mal as they followed Mike, keeping to the shadows at all times. Mal looked strangely vacant, but Dean thought that he had a good reason to be a little upset. To be honest, Dean had been unnerved by Mal's little speech and had a feeling that the teenager was rather vulnerable at the moment.

"What's he doing?" Mal asked suddenly when Mike turned left at something vaguely representing a crossroad. "Why is he going that way?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"To get to the place where we usually meet, he should've turned right, not left." Mal explained hurriedly.

"Well, where does the left lead to?" Sam questioned as they quickened their pace.

"Dodgy place." Mal said as though that was more than enough information.

"Kaloc." Dean said as realisation dawned on him. Sam shared a look with his brother before letting out a sigh.

"Dean's right." Sam said. "Did Peter have a phone or anything?"

"Yeah, so does Mike." Mal said, his eyes suddenly growing big. "Do you think that my father took Peter's phone in order to give Mike another place to meet?"

"That's exactly what I think." Sam said, quickening his pace again.

When they next caught sight of Mike he was walking through an area slightly wider than before but still with towering walls on either side. Dean suddenly began noticing how quiet it was in this part of the so called 'dodgy place'. He forced himself to concentrate on Mike though the sound that he heard next made him tear him his eyes away from the boy.

A low growling was coming from somewhere behind them and Dean tried desperately to see into the darkness before remembering the flashlight in his hand. He flicked it on but saw nothing. A loud clattering noise brought him to look back after Mike. The noise had come from something that vaguely represented a gate – though looked more like a very high metal netted fence – and had closed at the place that Mike had been moments before. The boy jumped slightly before walking on.

Before Dean knew it, Mal had taken off at a run towards the fence and everything after that happened almost too fast for Dean to process. He and the two remaining hunters took off after Mal but were slammed into a fence similar to that at the other side. The two high fences had effectively caged Mal in, leaving no room for him to escape. Dean desperately tried to climb the fence but to no avail.

"That was almost too easy to be fun." Kaloc said as he stepped out of the shadows in the enclosed area. At the sight of his father Mal scooted back against the wall, drawing the gun. "Giving my boy weapons, I see."

"What have you done with the other boy?" Dean yelled, drawing his own gun, noticing that Bobby and Sam had done the same.

"Who?" Kaloc said, looking confused for a moment before continuing. "Oh he is just going to wander around until he realises no one's coming."

"It was all a trap, wasn't it?" Sam said, the muscles in his neck flexing.

"A pretty good one if I may say so." Kaloc said, leaning against the wall for a moment, eyeing Mal.

"Well, except that we've all got a couple of bullets to put in you." Dean said, a smile with no sign of amusement slipping on his face.

"You all are a little bit pathetic if you don't mind me saying." Kaloc chuckled. "After all you say that I have put my son through, you would shoot his father right in front of him?"

"He would too." Dean said, sounding a lot surer of his statement than he felt.

"You sound so sure about that." Kaloc said, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards Mal. "What was it your father used to say to you Sam and Dean? 'It's an order'?"

"How do you know…?" Dean began, kicking himself slightly for his own stupidity of letting Kaloc gain the upper hand.

"Let's just say I am well acquainted and have been around for a while." Kaloc said as he continued to advance on Mal, who held the gun up in front of him, his hands shaking slightly. "So, let's just see if Mal will really shoot me. Mal, give me the gun."

Dean was starting to feel sick. He wanted to pull the trigger, but something was holding him back and he did not know what. Maybe it was because that what Kaloc had said was true: how would Mal take it if his dad was shot right before his eyes? Bobby and Sam also kept still, so Dean figured they were thinking along the same lines as him.

"Mal, give me the gun." Kaloc repeated as Mal's hands starting shaking worse than before. "Now would be a good time; or should we try the Winchester approach? Give me the gun, Mal, it's an order."

Dean felt cold inside by hearing those words said by Kaloc, but what was worse was Mal letting his gaze drop and holding the gun out towards his father.

"Mal, what the hell are you doing?" Dean exclaimed as Kaloc took the gun out of Mal's hands.

"I can only say that my boy is well-trained. Now," Kaloc said, all amusement suddenly slipping from his face as he quickly grabbed hold of Mal, pulling him close to his chest with an arm around the boy's throat and the gun pointing at Mal's head, "put your guns down."

Dean could feel himself starting to shake slightly and saw that Sam had blanched completely. Dean quickly looked back at Mal. The boy's face was white and even from the distance between them could he hear Mal's breathing bordering on hyperventilation.

"Kaloc, what are you doing?" Dean breathed, afraid to use the wrong tone. "You are not really going to shoot your own son, are you?"

"Maybe not," Kaloc agreed, "but I can still hurt him like hell if you don't back down."

As if to prove his point, Kaloc used the arm already around Mal's throat to press his fingers hard into the knife wound in Mal's shoulder. Dean knew that it was not completely healed and Mal's scream confirmed it.

"Alright, alright." Dean said quickly as he noticed Mal slack somewhat in Kaloc's grasp. He quickly lowered the gun to the ground and pushed it under the fence. Bobby and Sam were about to do the same, but Sam hesitated.

"What if I don't?" Sam asked, looking Kaloc directly in the eye.

"If you want to gamble with Mal's life that really won't be a problem with me." Kaloc answered, momentarily removing his arm from Mal's throat, though the gun was still held at Mal's temple and the boy did not move.

"Father, please…" Mal begged quietly, though is voice was shaking so badly it was almost impossible to understand a word he was saying.

Kaloc did not say anything, but instead raised the gun and hit Mal around the face with it. Mal gasped slightly but he did not have time to fall to the ground before he was pulled up again, Kaloc's arm around his throat once more.

"Sam, put the gun down." Dean hissed.

"Wait, Dean." Sam said glancing at his brother briefly. "What will happen if we all surrender to you?"

"You make it sound so dramatic." Kaloc sighed. "In answer to your question, you all get to go and live your lives; without Mal, though."

"And what would happen to him?" Sam questioned, his face blank and expressionless.

"We would go back to the way we were." Kaloc said. "Though, I suppose that our weeks apart have done nothing good and we may have to repeat previous events."

"No!" Mal yelled, trying desperately to throw Kaloc off. He had caught Kaloc off guard and managed to momentarily weasel his way out of his father's grasp.

A loud gunshot went off right next to Dean's ear and Kaloc was thrown to the side. Sam fired again, but Kaloc had managed to avoid the second bullet and instead had taken a tight hold on Mal again. He was bleeding rather heavily from his left shoulder but he did not seem to take notice.

No one said anything for a moment, though Dean was certain that Kaloc looked positively furious, which, Dean contemplated, could never be a good thing.

"Kaloc, just let Mal go." Dean tried, though he knew that his words would probably never have a positive effect on the demon.

"Oh, is that what you want to happen?" Kaloc said, a lopsided smile slipping onto his face, though lacking any sign of amusement. "How many pieces do you want him in?"

"Kaloc, come on, just let the boy go." Dean tried again.

"Father –" Mal began quietly.

"You, shut up." Kaloc warned, tightening his grip around Mal's throat.

"Father, I can't breathe…" Mal gasped, pushing weakly against his father.

"Are you going to put that gun down?" Kaloc said in a threatening tone as he looked at Sam.

"Sam, just do it!" Dean yelled as he noticed Mal's struggles getting weaker.

Sam quickly pushed the gun under fence and held up his empty hands to Kaloc. Kaloc immediately released his hold on Mal who fell to the ground, coughing as he tried to draw into his lungs.

"Get up, will you?" Kaloc growled at Mal, who tried to obey but as he was still struggling to breathe he did not react as quickly as Kaloc wanted.

Dean shouted out as Kaloc kicked Mal hard in his stomach twice causing Mal to pull his legs up to his chest in order to defend himself. Kaloc opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the distant sound of sirens which proved not to be so distant when a police car came crashing through the gate on the opposite side. It was quickly followed by another police car and an ambulance.

Dean looked back at the place Kaloc had been, but he had disappeared. Mal was still lying on the ground and Dean tried once more to remove the gate, but to no avail.

"Dean, get away from the gate." Bobby whispered and Dean felt a pull on his arm and before he knew it he was sat in the shadows watching as policemen and people from the ambulance hurried towards Mal.

* * *

Just before I start begging for reviews I'll just say that I have absolutely nothing against homosexuality. In fact a lot of my best friends are homosexual, so there you go. I did not mean to offend anyone. 

Now to the begging! ;-)

Please drop in a review! Will you do it if I give virtual cookies or another sort of bribe?


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Thanks so much to **rholou** for reviewing the last chapter - and the all the others. Sorry, this chapter is all Mal. For some reason his little part became a little bigger than I first thought for this chapter but I promise there will be loads of Dean in the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Supernatural is mine!! Of course it is! I'm just kidding, of course it's not, but Mal and any other OC characters are mine.

* * *

The penetrating, regular bleeping brought Mal into a level of awareness; a place which he was not even sure he wanted to be in. His body ached horribly, though not nearly as bad as he had had it in the past. However, his head and shoulder throbbed painfully and he started to wonder what had happened. He forced his eyes slowly open, expecting the dull darkness of Bobby's house, but was met with a brilliant white light. He turned his head slowly as he took in the various machines and all of the bright white things in the room. His heart started to thump harder against his chest as he slowly realised where he was. Memories came tumbling back in no specific order but still he could not bring himself to calm down over seeing the interior of a hospital again.

He gulped in a big breath of air, desperate to calm down before anyone came. It worked partly and he managed to raise his head slightly and look around the room, thankful that nobody was there apart from him. He wanted out of here, of that he was certain. He had not been put in restraints for which he was eminently thankful for, but he still had needles poking out of his hands here and there. He was about to raise a hand to pull them out when he hesitated, listening to the dull footsteps approaching the room. In a matter of seconds he had made up his mind and had thrown himself back down on the pillow, eyes closed as he feigned sleep.

"So, who is this?" A male voice asked when the door to his room opened.

"This is Mal Johnson." Another male voice said which sounded vaguely familiar.

"Isn't he that kid that ran off?" The first asked.

"Yes." The second answered rather coolly.

It took all of the strength Mal had within him not to fight off the hands which were now checking the needles in his hands and feeling his forehead. He figured that the time he had spent with the hunters had made him a little clearer in his own mind because he was quite certain that only a few weeks back he would not have been able to lie completely still. The thing was, he did not want to be awake in their presence, knowing full well that would be the start of their questioning. For one hopeful moment he thought that maybe, just maybe, Dean, Sam and Bobby would find him a way out of here. He had never put faith in anyone else before and he did not know whether it was wise to do so, but at least he had some hope that things would get better and that he would get out.

"When did they bring him in, Dr Roberts?" The first of the voices asked.

"Only a couple of hours ago." Dr Roberts said, and Mal noticed a slight note of irritation in his voice. "Who knows what the boy was thinking?"

"What do you mean, doctor?"

"Running off like that and then, by the looks of it, getting into a fight. Kids these days." Dr Roberts said with a sigh. "Have you got any children, Dr Carey?"

"No, I would rather spend my time and energy on the job." Dr Carey answered in a tone that suggested that this was how he thought it should be. "You?"

"Two sons and a daughter." Dr Roberts said and Mal could hear the fondness in his voice. "My oldest is around his age."

"And you don't find it jeopardizes your job as a doctor?" Dr Carey questioned.

"No, I don't." Dr Roberts answered, the cold tone returning slightly to his voice.

Mal could hear them rummaging around with the various monitors in the room and hoped that they would soon leave.

"He hasn't woken up yet." Dr Carey stated after a few minutes of silence.

"I've noticed." Dr Roberts said simply. "We better just take a look at his shoulder now we're here."

"No problem."

Mal thought that Dr Carey sounded a little bit too enthusiastic about looking at the old knife wound, but that was not the biggest of his worries. He tightened his jaw in determination and managed to keep still as the two doctors hovered over the shoulder, prodding it every now and then. Mal was not ashamed to admit it but he really hated doctors and hospitals. However, he would not blame any of the three hunters, whom he had come to trust, for landing himself back in the hospital.

"Well," Dr Roberts sighed after a while, "at least it does not look as if it is back to square one."

"Do you know what is going to happen to him?" Dr Carey asked, and Mal listened a little more attentively than before.

"I suppose I should contact the two guys from Child Welfare before too long. Then, it's social workers, police and hopefully find him somewhere to stay." Dr Roberts ranted.

"I see." Dr Carey said, though he did not sound too interested.

"Look, Dr Carey, I know you are an excellent doctor, but you are new to this hospital so I am obliged to ask: have you worked with children before?" Dr Roberts asked, his voice rather low and careful.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I have." Dr Carey responded rather coolly.

"With cases like Mal's?" Dr Roberts pressed on.

"In that area I have less experience." Dr Carey admitted and Mal could swear that he could hear the man grind his teeth.

"Just be careful." Dr Roberts warned before Mal heard one pair of shoes walking out of the room.

Mal listened intently to the other man's breathing, waiting for him to follow the first. It was quickly made clear to Mal which of the doctors remained in the room.

"Idiot." Dr Carey's voice said quietly.

Mal was starting to find it harder to control his heartbeat and wished that the doctor would just leave. However, luck was no longer on his side. It seemed that Dr Carey had taken Dr Roberts' words as a personal insult and had therefore decided to linger in the room for a bit longer. Mal heard the scrape of a chair against the floor and a heavy sigh as Dr Carey sat down. Mal's worry was increasing rapidly as he realised that his mind was slowly allowing any calming thought to ebb away.

A low rapid bleeping almost made him open his eyes, but he kept them shut realising that it must have come from Dr Carey who sighed loudly and shuffled over to Mal's side. Mal could hear him rummaging a bit around the room, but could not keep himself from stiffening when something was wrapped tightly around the upper part of his left arm. Dr Carey paused his movements for a moment before continuing to tighten whatever it was around Mal's arm. Then it hit him. His blood. They were going to test his blood again. The way Mal saw it, he had two options: one, simply let them take from him what they wanted; two, prevent them from doing so using any means necessary. Neither option seemed too appealing.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking slightly against the bright light overhead. Dr Carey was a young doctor, whom Mal figured had to be an excellent doctor indeed to be that young. He could not have been more than in his mid-thirties, with short brown hair and hazel eyes.

"What are you doing?" Mal asked, not all too surprised to find his voice rather hoarse. Dr Carey looked slightly startled for a moment before looking Mal in the eye.

"I'm just going to take a quick blood test, Mr Johnson." Dr Carey said calmly, though Mal could not help but glare at him.

"No you're not." Mal said firmly and for a wild moment he hoped that the good doctor would obey his patient's wishes.

"I'm sorry but it has to be done." Dr Carey answered as firmly as Mal.

Mal was still debating with himself whether or not to fight the man, but then again if that was his only way out.

Before the doctor knew it Mal had punched him hard across the face sending him tumbling backwards. Mal quickly plucked the needles out of his hands and pulled off the tourniquet, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, grateful to see that he was wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt opposed to the hospital gown.

Dr Carey scrambled off the floor and hurried towards. Mal had to admit that he was grateful to his father for one thing and that was the fighting skills. He punched Dr Carey hard again, but grabbed the man's shoulders as he was about to tumble over, planting a knee in the doctor's groin. Dr Carey groaned loudly and fell to the floor as Mal turned around with a quick apology and ran for the door.

His bare feet barely made a noise as he ran down the corridors, which were practically empty. He slipped into an empty room as heard voices and running footsteps down the corridor the way he had just come, no doubt on their way to his room. As the last person ran past, he popped his head out and checked that the coast was clear.

He made it as far as the stairs and elevators before he ran into trouble. Just as he reached the elevators one of them opened and he found himself face to face with Dr Roberts who had a look of utter surprise on his face.

"Shit." Mal exclaimed quietly to himself as he quickly jumped to the side and bolted down the stairs. He could hear Dr Roberts shouting from the top of the stairs before the doctor's footsteps could be heard running after him down the stairs.

Mal held on tight to the banisters as he jumped from on landing to another in a desperate attempt to outrun his pursuers. He paused momentarily, panting hard as he considered letting the demon through just long enough for him to escape, but before he could give this much thought, the sound of nearing footsteps forced him onwards. He tore on down the stairs, but slammed on the breaks when a security guard came running up the stairs towards him. Mal took a deep breath before jumping at the man, sending him tumbling down the stairs and leaving him unconscious.

Mal forced himself to run even though the harsh treatment he had received from his father a few hours previous tried to slow him down. He grabbed hold of the banister and swung himself over it and onto the next landing, swaying slightly as his feet hit the stairs.

"Mal! Stop!" Dr Roberts shouted from somewhere behind Mal. Mal ignored him and ran on, desperate to get out of the hospital.

He paused as he reached the ground floor, taking in all of the complications. More security guards were situated around the area, clearly having been informed of an escaped patient. The nurses and receptionists looked around worriedly, though the few people in the waiting area merely looked interested in what was going on. Mal began wishing that he had picked up the security guard's gun, but reminded himself that it was too late to think about that.

He could see the exit from where he was standing, concealed from view, but he could also hear the nearing footsteps behind him reminding him that he did not have time to think up a plan. If he wanted out, he just had to make a run for it. He gasped slightly a few times, suddenly feeling the pain in his chest. He closed his eyes briefly, closing out all surrounding noises as he concentrated on his own breathing and the beating of his heart. He took a deep, shaky breath and released it slowly as he opened his eyes, seeing the situation before him unchanged.

"Mal?"

Dr Roberts' voice was too close for comfort and Mal turned his head to see the doctor standing on the last step of the stairs, no more than a few metres from him. Dr Roberts took a slow, tentative step down the stairs, now standing on the floor. Mal immediately took a step back against the wall, afraid to feel that the rate of his heartbeat had increased rapidly again.

"_Coward…_"

Mal shivered as he listened to the word that the voice kept saying, over and over again. Was he really that much of a coward? Was that why he was running away; because he was a coward? He would not accept that. He pushed the voice out of his head and instead focused on the situation at hand.

"Mal, come on, you have to stop this." Dr Roberts said quietly as he took another step towards Mal.

"No I don't." Mal stated as he turned round sharply on his heel and ran towards the exit.

It was as though time stood still as he ran into the entrance hall, Dr Roberts at his heels and everyone in the hall moving towards him. He dodged in and out of the hands reaching towards him

"Leave him!" Dr Roberts shouted and Mal wondered for a second whether he had up.

Mal's thoughts were quickly answered as he reached the doors. He reached out a hand, readying himself to hurl the door open and taste the air of freedom. He slammed headfirst into the door, tumbling backwards a few steps before regaining his balance. He pounded his fists against the doors and pulled at them as he slowly realised that of course the doors had been locked at the first notice of a possible escapee. He turned around slowly, taking in the number of people before him. To him it seemed that almost the whole hospital had assembled, which was of course not so but there seemed to be an awful lot. There were roughly around four security guards, five nurses, Dr Roberts and other various people, some of whom Mal was not even sure was part of the hospital staff.

"Mal, just calm down and we will talk about this." Dr Roberts said calmly.

"There is nothing to talk about." Mal answered coldly, eyeing Dr Roberts.

"Mal, calm down." Dr Roberts said firmly.

"_Kill him!_"

Mal stumbled backwards as the voice shouted to him, urging him on.

"Take it easy, okay?" Dr Roberts tried again, obviously thinking that it was his words that had caused Mal's reaction.

"Did you get him?" Dr Carey asked as he came walking out of one of the elevators, clutching a bleeding nose. Mal had not even noticed that he had hit him that hard. He glanced down at his knuckles and saw a few traces of blood which he was quite sure was not his own.

Mal closed his hands tightly into fists, readying himself for any sign of movement form his opponents. When Dr Roberts took a tentative step towards him, he took a step backwards, though he managed to keep taking slow, deep breaths to keep himself from doing anything without a thought. His hands were starting to feel clammy from sweat, and his body was telling him that it was tired but he refused to listen as he stood his ground.

"Just come back with us upstairs and we'll talk about this." Dr Roberts tried calmly, though Mal was starting to hear the slight urgency in his voice.

"I told you that there is nothing to talk about." Mal said again, giving Dr Roberts a cold glare.

"You have been through a lot Mal and you need to rest." Dr Roberts insisted.

"What? And your way of having me doing that is by sedation and restraints, right?" Mal said, letting a grimace of a smile slip onto his face. He did not give them time to answer. "Well, I'm sorry, but I am not going to come quietly."

With that he kicked the nearest security guard in the chest, next swivelling round to catch the next with a fist. He forced his body to work against its will as quickly fought off the remaining security guards, though none of them tried to stop him. That was until he was caught by surprise. He had not noticed the doctors or nurses who got hold of him from behind, forcing down upon a stretcher to which he was securely restrained. He tried to wring himself out of the restraints but a needle was quickly pushed into his arm and it only took a few moments before his body started feeling limp. He barely noticed being taken away from the entrance hall and back upstairs. He could hear voices around him but found it hard to make out what they were saying.

"Dr Carey, I assure you that is definitely not what the boy is in need of." He heard Dr Roberts voice scold somewhere to his right.

"Then what would you do with the kid? He has lost his mind." Dr Carey's voice answered.

Mal's mind could not process the rest of what they were saying as the movement finally stopped and silence surrounded him. He managed to turn his head slightly to see that he was alone in a room with Dr Roberts who was eyeing him carefully.

"I'm sorry about how this turned out." Dr Roberts said quietly as he approached Mal, crouching next to the stretcher. Even though his mind and body felt heavy, Mal managed to move his head to avoid eye contact. "Mal, listen, I have near to no say in this, but I don't think you have psychological problems that would come into the category of mentally ill, so please, prove me right." Mal was rather surprised to hear the note of worry in his voice. "Look at me and tell me that you're willing to calm down and let us help you get better, please."

Somehow, Mal wanted to do as he was asked but the more action of turning his head seemed too complicated. He had a feeling that it was an extremely bad idea not to respond, but even while he was drugged he was too stubborn or too afraid to say anything. He heard Dr Roberts sigh deeply and say something to someone before he heard Dr Carey's toneless voice.

"Take him to Psych Ward."

* * *

Now, do you know what to do? Scold me!! Or just drop in a little review...


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: So sorry about the long update. I've been very busy revising for my lovely AS exams (first one in three weeks - yikes!!) and generally doing college work. Anyway, thanks so much for all who reviewed the last chapter - it really meant a lot, especially since it was completely Dean, Sam and Bobby free.

Disclaimer: Do I really have to remind you that of course Dean Winchester belongs to me?? Just kidding, if he did I guess my life would be a lot different. Though the dear ol' Mal is still my demented creation.

Happy reading...

* * *

Dean watched in horror as the ambulance and police car drove away leaving the area Mal had been in moments before empty. It had not taken long for the paramedics to stabilize Mal, and Dean doubted very much that some form of sedation was not involved. When the cars drove away he felt anger, fear and self-hatred rise in his chest. How had it even come to this?

"We have to get him out of there." Dean stated as he turned sharply on his heel and started running back the way they had come.

"Dean, stop!" Sam shouted. Dean obliged and waited for Sam and Bobby to catch up with him. "We can't just go charging into the hospital and get him."

"So what? You just want to leave him there?" Dean exclaimed.

"Dean, listen to your brother for a moment." Bobby said, glancing between the two brothers.

"I told Dr Roberts to contact me if there was any sign of Mal." Sam said slowly. "He will call us to let us know where Mal is. I can then ask if we can come in and in that way we have a free ticket inside."

Dean took a deep breath as he contemplated what Sam had just said.

"Okay," he said finally, "we'll give him a couple of hours, because I am not going to leave Mal at that hospital.

"Dean, you are not the only one who cares." Sam said. "Let's just get back to the car."

The others agreed and they started making their way slowly to the Impala through the winding alleys. The streets were now completely deserted giving the town a haunted look. The Impala was parked where they had left it, but it suddenly felt weird to Dean that they had arrived four and were returning three.

"What if Kaloc goes into the hospital to get him?" Dean asked the thought out loud that had been racing in his mind for the past minute.

"He didn't before." Sam said, though Dean could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "Dr Roberts will call us Dean."

* * *

Four hours later they still had not heard anything from Dr Roberts and Dean's worry was rapidly increasing. Bobby had made them return to his house as he said they had some cleaning to do. Bobby had managed to get Peter's body a good distance away from the house before making an anonymous phone call to the police. Dean had thought the action was careless but he also knew that they could not afford to have police interest around Bobby's house and especially not around Sam and Dean.

Bobby managed to fit in a new window where the broken one had been, as Sam and Dean continued to try and get Peter's blood out of the floorboards. When they were done some two hours later, Dr Roberts had still not called.

"He is not going to call, Sam." Dean said as he started pacing the living room.

"He will." Sam said firmly and on cue his phone rang. Dean stopped pacing and looked intently on Sam as his brother quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it. "Hello? Dr Roberts, so good to hear from you…you have? That's great; how's he doing?" There was a lengthy pause in which Sam's forehead creased into a frown. "Can my partner and I come and see him?" Another lengthy pause. "That will be fine, we'll see you then."

"Well?" Dean said as Sam put down the phone.

"Was that your phone, Sam?" Bobby asked as he entered the living room.

"Dr Roberts just called." Sam said vacantly.

"What did he say?" Dean asked impatiently.

"We can come and see him whenever we like; he suggested later this afternoon." Sam answered.

Dean felt rather relieved that Sam had been right that they could get into the hospital and be taken to see Mal so easily.

"So, why are you looking as if the end of the world is at your doorstep?" Bobby asked and Dean looked up at his brother and admitted that Bobby's description was not far off.

"Dean, please don't freak out or anything, okay?" Sam pleaded with his brother.

"They've taken him to Psych Ward." Sam said quickly. "It's the ward in the hospital that deals with the mentally disabled patients."

"Why the hell have they put him there?" Dean asked, feeling his temper rising.

"Apparently he tried to run off and became rather violent." Sam answered, clearly trying to remain calm.

"We are going." Dean said as he hurriedly made his way towards the stairs. "Now."

"Where are you going?" Sam called after him as Dean ran up the stairs.

"To change into that suit." Dean called back and it was not long before he heard Sam following his example.

Dean did not think he had ever managed to get the suit on that fast. He quickly checked himself in the mirror to make sure that the tie was okay before hurrying downstairs. What he did not expect was to find Bobby dressed in a suit as well, his cap left on a table beside him.

"Child Welfare, right?" Bobby asked as he raised a card to Dean.

"Yeah." Dean said, still rather shocked at seeing Bobby in a suit.

"Okay, I'm ready." Sam said as he came trotting down the stairs. "Wow, Bobby, you…er…"

"Don't say a word." Bobby growled as he turned around and headed for the door, the two Winchesters at his heel.

Dean had managed to secure a gun to his trousers as he was quite certain that he did not want to go in unarmed. He had seen Sam and Bobby arm themselves as well so he figured that they, like him, were worried that Kaloc was going to show up.

Dean was not sure he had ever broken the speed limit by as much as he did now. The Impala practically flew over the hills and the landscape went by in a blur. He only slowed down when it was utterly necessary but otherwise kept his foot on the pedal. He was vaguely aware of Sam and Bobby carefully suggesting that he decreased his speed, but they had no luck.

The drive seemed longer than it ever had before and it was not helped when they had to stop for gas. Dean had almost ignored it before Sam reminded him that it would take them a lot longer to get anywhere without gas. It did not take long to fill up the Impala, though to Dean it felt like an eternity. They were quickly on the road again and the wild ride continued.

By the time they arrived at the hospital it was around two o'clock in the afternoon. It had indeed taken them longer to get to the hospital than Dean would have liked. He jumped out of the car, though neither Sam nor Bobby were far behind. He quickly locked the car and the three of them hurried into the hospital and to the reception desk, where a middle aged nurse was sat writing a few notes in a booklet.

"Child Welfare," Dean said and the three hunters held up their fake badges, "we're here to see Mal Johnson."

The nurse looked startled for a moment before she asked them politely to a wait a minute. She picked up the phone and exchanged a few words of information before putting the phone down again.

"Wait here a moment," she said, "someone will be down in a minute to take you up there."

They thanked her, though Dean could throttle her for asking them to wait any longer. As it was they did not have to wait long before a nurse came towards them and asked them to follow her. She took them to the elevators and tried to say a few friendly words but quickly gave up when Sam was the only one who attempted response.

She led them along a corridor towards a set of barred doors – their resemblance shockingly close to that of a cell door in a prison – where the nurse took out a swipe card. Dean tried to take everything in, knowing that all information was valuable information if they were to get the kid out. The nurse led them through the barred doors, past a desk where she gave another couple of nurses a tight smile before walking down a corridor. She turned a left and walked a bit further before stopping in front of Room 216. The door to the room was shut with a small plastic-fitted window in the centre. However, before Dean had a chance to look inside, the nurse had her swipe card out again and opened the door.

Dean's first impression of the room was that it was shockingly bright, but in a way that made him cringe. There was nothing in the room to evoke any sense of personality or familiarity. The walls were white; the floor was white-tiled with grey flecks. He had still not dared to look at the bed, almost out of a sense of fear that the boy lying in that bed would be unrecognisable.

"I'll leave you for a few minutes." The nurse said, breaking through Dean's chain of thought. "Please press the call button if you need anything; I will leave the door open."

With that she turned and walked out of the room rather quickly. Dean gulped as he turned to look at the bed.

"Holy…" Dean started quietly, but his voice drifted off as he took in Mal's appearance.

Restraints were on him again, though this time his chest had been strapped down as well. He was hooked up to various monitors, but Dean could not tear his eyes away from Mal's face. The boy was so pale. If Dean had not known better he would have said the kid was a vampire.

"He wasn't this bad." Sam breathed and it took a moment before Dean fully realised what he meant.

Mal's breaths were coming in short, ragged attempts as though breathing was an almost impossible task. As well as his face being incredibly pale, his veins in his hands and arms represented a stark contrast against his skin. As Dean took a cautious step forwards he also noted that the boy was shaking; not violently, but enough to be noticeable.

"What the hell did they do to him?" Dean exclaimed, trying to keep his voice low.

"That's what we're trying to find out." Bobby said and it was first then that Dean noticed Sam and Bobby leaning over Mal's chart.

"I am not going to talk technical because I know you won't understand it." Sam said simply, glancing up at Dean, who refrained from denying Sam's statement. "It seems that they are trying to cure an infection in the blood."

"An infection in the…" Dean repeated as he turned the thought over in his head. "What kind of infection?"

"Dean, use that brain of yours," Bobby growled, "the demon blood in him shows up as an infection to them."

"Which means," Sam continued, "they are trying to get rid of the demon in him."

"Well that's…is that good or bad?" Dean asked, feeling very unsure whether he should be pleased or scared out of his skin. He cast another look at Mal and noticed he had stilled somewhat.

"Let me put it to you this way," Sam said in a matter-of-fact tone, "there're two halves to you: your mum's DNA and your dad's DNA. With Mal, his mother's DNA is human, whereas his dad's is demon. So, half of him is human and the other half is demon. The hospital is treating the demon part as an infection in the human part, so they are trying to get rid of the demon part."

"In other words," Bobby added, "they are killing him."

"They're what?" Dean questioned, his heart suddenly thumping harder against his chest and he could feel his blood pumping in his ears. "We have to get him out of here."

"I couldn't agree more." Sam said. His face suddenly slipped into a mask of surprise as his eyes rested on the bed. "Dean…"

Dean turned his head to see Mal's eyes flutter slightly, his head turned in the direction of their voices.

"Mal?" Dean said questionably. "Mal, can you hear me?"

Mal's eyes opened slowly and rested on each of them. There was nothing that really could have prepared Dean for the empty look in the boy's eyes. Like his pale face he simply looked dead; his eyes glazed over with a dull look, though there was a small spark of recognition present as well.

"Dean, move over for a minute." Sam requested as he walked past Dean and crouched next to Mal's bed. "Mal, look at me." With Sam's command Mal moved his head and eyes slowly in Sam direction, though the movement seemed to cause him pain.

"I couldn't change." Mal whispered so quietly the three hunters had to lean in closer to hear.

"That's okay." Sam assured him. Dean recognised the tone of voice Sam was using. It was the tone he used when he was afraid but faked it with a calm, gentle voice. "Mal, listen to me for a moment; are you in pain?"

"Hurts." Mal mumbled, his eyes threatening to fall shut again.

"Mal, stay awake for a minute, okay?" Sam said urgently.

"Sam, ask him to squeeze your hand," Bobby said, "it'll give us an idea of how much strength he was left."

Bobby's choice of words made Dean cringe, but he ignored the feeling and instead turned his attention back to Sam and Mal.

"Mal, can you squeeze my hand?" Sam asked as he took hold of Mal's hand, taking care not to disrupt any of he needles. It seemed to take Mal a while to process what Sam had said, but he very slowly closed his hand around Sam's, holding on for a moment before releasing again. "Okay…"

Sam stood up slowly, a frown of worry appearing on his forehead. Mal's eyes fluttered open again and searched around for a moment before settling on them again.

"Don't go." Mal muttered, forcing his eyes to remain open.

"Don't worry; we're going to get you out." Dean said in what he hoped was an assuring tone.

"Dean, Sam, can I talk to you two for a minute?" Sam asked and the two brothers nodded and walked a couple of steps away form the bed.

"Bobby, I swear that if you say we are leaving him here, I'm going to kick your ass." Dean warned.

"Quite the opposite." Bobby said. "He's bad and I have a feeling that they're going to give him another dose of…of…" he shot a glance at Dean and sighed, "of the demon DNA killer. I was hoping we could form some sort of plan, but I don't really see we have time for that."

"Bobby, I am impressed –" Dean started.

"Knock it off." Bobby threatened.

"So, what are we going to do?" Sam asked, casting a glance over his shoulder at Mal.

"Give me a minute to think." Bobby said.

"Wait a minute." Dean said, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps.

A doctor strolled into the room, no older than mid-thirties with short brown hair, but Dean did not miss the fresh bruises lining his face.

"Ah, hello," the doctor said as he caught sight of them, "I'm Dr Carey, Mal's doctor."

"Child Welfare." Sam answered quickly. "What happened to Dr Roberts?"

"When the same patient manages to try to run off three times and succeeds once, we thought a change of doctor was in order." Dr Carey answered, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, we heard he tried to run off again and that he became violent." Sam said and Dean was surprised how easy it was for his brother to just play along.

"Rather unfortunate that," Dr Carey answered, as he vaguely gestured to his face, "that's why I had him moved up here to Psychiatric Ward as it will be easier to address his psychological wellbeing here."

"So what are you planning to do to help him?" Dean asked, trying to sound as if he was strictly talking business.

"The plan is to get him better, both physically and psychologically. He received quite the beating just before he was brought in which did nothing to help the injuries he had already received." Dr Carey explained in a well-rehearsed manner. "So, what are _you_ planning to do?"

"Supporting Mal, helping the police to find his father and hopefully help him to find a good family when all of this is over." Sam said with an ease Dean had to admire.

"Has he woken up yet?" Dr Carey asked.

"No," Sam lied, "would you mind if we stayed a few more minutes?"

"Of course not; stay as long as you like…well, until I come and tell you to leave." Dr Carey replied with a small chuckle.

"Thank you." Sam said, and Dean thought that this was probably the only part of the conversation he had been honest about.

"I'll take my leave then." Dr Carey said and promptly turned around and walked out of the room.

"Sam, you're a fantastic liar." Dean said, giving his brother a quick clap on the shoulder.

"Okay, so how are we going to do this?" Sam asked as he walked back towards the hospital bed.

"Check if his clothes are in that cupboard." Bobby said, motioning towards a cupboard stood in the corner of the room. Dean had covered the distance in two strides and praised the hospital for having washed Mal's clothes and put them in the cupboard.

"We're good." Dean said as he held up the clothes.

"Okay, let's get those IVs out." Bobby said, closing the distance to the hospital bed.

Dean joined Sam and Bobby at Mal's side and helped them get the IVs out. Mal only moaned slightly as they worked, but otherwise lay completely still. Bobby had found some plasters in the room and quickly applied one to the hand where the IVs had previously been. Dean immediately set to work on removing the restraints, trying to throw them aside in disgust.

"Mal, come on, sit up for me for a minute." Dean requested as he tried to lift the upper part of Mal's body off the bed. This action caused Mal to moan louder, a small whimper escaping his lips as he tried to push Dean off with feeble attempts. Dean tried to ignore Mal's protests and instead continued to hoist him off the bed. "Mal, help us out here."

Sam helped to hold Mal up as Bobby went to stand guard at the door, but the added help did not aid much.

"Hurts." Mal moaned again.

"I know, I know." Dean said quietly, though he really had no idea how much pain Mal actually was in. "Mal, we are going to get you out of here, but you have to help us."

"Okay." Mal whispered.

"Good." Dean said, breathing a sigh of relief for the boy's coherence. "We have to get you dressed."

"I'm dressed." Mal mumbled.

"Only in a hospital gown." Sam said calmly. "It will be a bit harder to smuggle you out in that."

"Just give me a minute." Mal said quietly, keeping his eyes closed for a moment longer before opening them. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Are you sure you don't want any help?" Dean asked, his gaze falling to Mal's shaking hands.

"It'll be okay." Mal whispered almost inaudibly.

"Alright then." Dean said and motioned for Sam to come with him. They only took a few steps away from the bed, refusing to be too far away in case Mal needed their help.

Dean could not help but listen to Mal's raspy breathing and occasional sharp intake of breath, indicating that even in this state the boy was trying to cover up his pain. Bobby was stood, stiff as a board, near the door, clearly trying not to let anything that may occur in the corridor slip his attention.

"You okay?" Dean asked as Mal hissed particularly loudly.

"I'm okay." Mal said quietly and dean noticed he sounded even more tired than he did before. "What now?"

Dean and Sam turned around to find Mal standing fully dressed and leaning heavily on the bed for support, in an attempt to look a lot healthier and more awake.

"We get the hell out of here." Dean said, noticing a hint of a smile on Sam's face as he said it.

"Wait here a moment." Bobby said.

"What's going on?" Sam asked as Bobby was about to walk out of the room.

"Something's happening outside." Bobby informed them before slipping out.

The three remaining occupants in the room watched the door intently, though Dean could see Mal's eyes threatening to fall shut every two seconds.

"Look, Mal, I'm really sorry about what happened." Dean said after a few moments of silence.

"Not your fault." Mal muttered, closing his eyes for a moment before snapping them open again.

"You okay?" Sam asked. Mal did not answer but merely nodded slowly. "Did they drug you pretty bad?"

"Don't want to talk about it." Mal answered, his voice faltering by the last couple of words.

"Okay." Sam replied with a nod of his head.

"We have to go; _now_" Bobby said with a sense of urgency as he stormed into the room.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"There are reports of a black horse in the entrance hall." Bobby explained quickly.

"As if this wouldn't be hard enough without Kaloc." Dean murmured.

"Actually, we can use this to our advantage." Sam said, earning a glance from the other three in the room. "Well, everyone will be so preoccupied with Kaloc that they may not pay any notice to us leaving with Mal."

"Good thinking, geek brother." Dean said. "Mal, can you walk?"

"Course I can." Mal said quietly as he pushed himself away from the bed and shakily took one step forwards. Dean saw him starting to fall and caught him before he hit the floor. "Or maybe not."

"Alright, come on." Dean said as he hoisted one of Mal's arms over his neck and half dragged Mal forwards.

"I can walk." Mal mumbled.

"I'm sure you can." Dean answered as he continued to drag Mal along.

* * *

Sorry about just ending it there, but it was getting rather long and I had to end it somewhere.

Please tell me what you thought of this chapter - whether or not I have completely lost everything after this long while of no update.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Thanks so much to all of the wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter!

Disclaimer: I-do-not-own-Supernatural. Okay? ;-)

* * *

Dean dragged Mal out into the brightly lit hallway, Bobby in front and Sam bringing up the rear. They were fortunate enough to find the hallway completely deserted as they started making their way down the corridor the way that the three hunters had come no more than forty minutes previously.

"Wait a minute." Sam said as they neared the nurses' desk by the barred door.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked but Sam merely held up a hand to Dean to signify to him to stay put.

Sam took a few cautious steps towards the corner and peered around it slowly.

"There are three nurses there." Sam whispered to them as he drew his head back.

"Sorry Mal, looks like you drew the short straw." Dean joked, but he was only met by a glare from both Sam and Bobby.

Mal was starting to lean heavier on Dan even though he was clearly trying hard not to. It worried Dean how rapidly the boy was getting weaker and he would have cursed the hospital into tomorrow if that had helped, but he knew it would not as they had only done what they had thought right.

"We need to get them away from that desk so we can get the door open and get out of here." Sam said quietly.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Bobby asked.

"Kaloc has distracted most of them, so we can thank him for that." Sam said as he looked around the corridor as if hoping that somehow an idea would open itself to him.

"We need a decoy." Dean said with a sense of certainty.

"A decoy?" Sam said, looking at Dean with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, like in _Benny and Joon_." Dean answered wondering if they even had a clue what he was talking about.

"You may not have noticed Dean, but we all need to get out." Sam replied, clearly finding that his statement meant the end of the decoy plan.

"I can be the decoy." Mal suddenly mumbled.

"I'm sure you can," Dean answered him, "but that is out of the question."

"Did you boys just hear that?" Bobby asked looking towards the barred door.

"Hear what?" Dean questioned.

"Listen." Bobby ordered.

Dean heard it too. People were screaming not far away and there was the unmistakeable sound of cantering hoofs against the brilliantly clean floors. Mal jerked at Dean's side as the horse screamed. It was a terrifying sound. It was the sound of a stallion preparing for battle against another, but what sent shivers down Dean's spine was the likeness to a real horse's voice, but with the presence of something that did not belong with a horse. The sound was too cold.

Dean held on a bit tighter to Mal as he felt the boy started to shake again and at the same time grow yet heavier.

"We have to move now." Dean urged and nodded towards Mal.

Sam looked at Mal worriedly and nodded. He crossed the hallway two big steps and tried a door which held the sign: STORE ROOM. It opened obediently and swung open without a creak.

"Get in." Sam said and none of them hesitated or questioned him.

"What about you?" Dean asked when he realised Sam was not coming.

"I'm the decoy." Sam answered with a small smile.

With that he walked back the way they had come only to come running around the corner a moment later, looking completely shocked as he shouted on the top of his lungs about patients in the corridors. All three nurses leapt from their chair and ran past the store room and down the corridor. Dean dragged Mal out of the store room, closely followed by Bobby and joined Sam at the nurses' desk.

Sam was running a hand under the wooden surface of the desk, a small smile slipping onto his face as he found what he was looking for. He pressed the button and the barred door open immediately. As Dean went to hurry for the exit, Mal collapsed at his side almost taking Dean with him had he not caught the boy.

"Alright, that's it." Dean said and he quickly lifted Mal up, one arm supporting his knees, the other his back.

"I can walk." Mal insisted with a mumble.

"No, you can't." Dean retorted firmly and quickly made his way through the open barred doors, closely followed by Sam and Bobby.

They hurried as fast as they could down the corridor, occasionally having to dive into a room when a doctor or nurse came along which was rare. They came to a sudden stop when they heard the sound of hoofs nearing them. They were standing in one end of one long corridor which ended in a sharp corner. It was from around that corner that they could hear Kaloc and there was no doubt in their mind that he was heading their way.

"We are so screwed." Dean said honestly but he received neither glares nor retorts from the comment.

The black horse came galloping round the corner, its hoofs sliding on the slippery floor, but saving its fall by landing gracefully on paws which supported a black wolf which with one stride was a horse again. Dean was rather amazed at the speed at which Kaloc could change from one being to another, but it was not enough to dull his fear and worry. The black horse was a stark contrast to the white hospital walls as it came galloping down the corridor towards them.

"Sam, shoot him." Dean said quietly, keeping his eyes locked on Kaloc who was coming nearer and nearer. "Shoot him dammit!"

The exclamation seemed to draw Sam's attention back on track but not before Bobby had drawn his gun and was pointing it directly at the horse. Dean was not sure he had ever really seen Bobby hesitate for as long as he did now. Both Sam and Bobby had their eyes locked on the black horse, their guns raised towards him but none of them fired.

Before Dean had time to think about putting Mal down and drawing his own gun, Kaloc was upon them. They all jumped to the side to avoid being trampled upon before taking off at a run down the corridor. Dean ran as fast as he could with Mal in his arms, which essentially was rather difficult. They could hear Kaloc close behind them and Dean almost had the feeling he was not trying to run them down.

They were in luck as they reached the elevators as one was already there waiting for them. They jumped inside and quickly pressed the button to the Ground Floor. The door closed leaving the elevator shaking slightly as the horse's hoofs banged against the door.

"So far so good." Dean said as he gulped in some air.

"It didn't go quite as well as I hoped." Sam admitted.

"Why didn't either of you two goof-bags fire at him?" Dean asked, hoping to get an honest answer.

I only saw the horse." Sam said quietly.

Dean nodded, understanding what Sam meant. It was impossible to see that the horse was not actually a horse, but a shapeshifting demon. It was the same when Kaloc had the form of a human. Dean had to remind himself constantly that he was not human; that he was a demon.

The elevator started to slow but Dean noticed they had not yet reached the Ground Floor.

"Shit." Dean mumbled. "I think we need to hide Mal."

The other two also noticed what Dean. Dean sat Mal down in one corner of the elevator and told him to keep quiet before the three hunters stood in front of him, successfully concealing him from view.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. Dean felt that their luck really had run out when the doctor who stepped in was none other than Dr Roberts.

"Oh hello." Dr Roberts greeted when a looked at them, his calmness signifying that he was probably not aware of a horse running loose in the hospital.

"Hello, Dr Roberts." Sam said politely.

"I trust you are here to see how Mal's doing." Dr Roberts answered.

"We've just been actually." Sam said. "He doesn't look too good."

"No, it really didn't do him any good to start fighting with those injuries." Dr Roberts replied, running a hand down the chart he was holding as though quickly scanning it before he looked up at Dean. "What happened to you?"

It took Dean a moment to think of what the doctor was talking about before he remembered his fight with Kaloc.

"I had a bad run-in with a couple of dogs." Dean answered, finding this was not far from the truth. "Where are you heading?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dr Roberts apologised quickly. "First Floor, please."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief that he was not going to the Ground Floor as he thought it would have been near impossible to get Mal past Dr Roberts without knocking the doctor out cold.

"I take it you've met Dr Carey?" Dr Roberts said rather coolly.

"Yes, we have." Sam answered.

Bobby kept quiet and Dean thought he was possibly trying not to draw attention to himself, which, considering the situation, was probably wise. Mal was so quiet that Dean was beginning to fear the boy had died but he did not dare turn around and look at him.

"…you must understand, though, that I did not want him to be taken to Psych Ward." Dr Roberts said and Dean realised that he and Sam had been talking for a while.

"I understand, Dr Roberts." Sam said, looking very serious.

"I just did not have a lot of power in that say." Dr Roberts answered as the elevator stopped moving. "Well, we are at my stop. I will keep in contact."

"Likewise." Sam lied as Dr Roberts walked out of the elevator and the doors closed behind him. Sam sighed and took a step away from the corner.

Dean quickly turned around to look at Mal and noticed Bobby doing the same. Dean crouched down next to Mal, glad to find him still breathing.

"Mal, are you okay?" Sam asked as he too crouched down in front of the boy.

"Don't…I don't…feel so good." Mal admitted very quietly, keeping his eyes closed.

"That's okay; we're almost out of here." Dean said calmly. He was surprised at how calm he could actually keep himself. "Come on."

Sam helped Dean pull Mal up from the floor, before Dean picked him up again ignoring Mal's feeble attempts at telling them that he could walk. At the moment Dean wondered if Mal would say he could walk even if his legs had been chopped off.

"Are we just making a run for it?" Sam asked as the elevator started to slow.

"I can't really see we can inconspicuous carrying Mal." Bobby reasoned.

"I can walk." Mal mumbled again.

"I don't think so." Dean answered him.

"I can." Mal insisted.

"Just put the kid down, Dean." Bobby growled. "If he can walk, he can; if he can't, he can't."

Dean reluctantly put Mal down and held out a hand to steady him, catching him as he swayed slightly on his feet.

"We just have to get to the car." Dean said, not really knowing why he felt the urge to tell them that. "It's not too far."

Sam looked at his brother and offered him a small smile. Dean figured that Sam probably knew that he was worried as it was something that Dean had never quite been able to hide from his little brother.

The elevator stopped moving and the doors slowly opened. There were people everywhere. They were running in every direction, a few were on the phone, others were talking with citizens and for a moment Dean wondered if all of this was because of a loose horse in the hospital, but he supposed this was a rather serious incident for a hospital. Maybe Kaloc's appearance had actually made it easier for them to escape.

"Let's go." Dean said firmly, taking a step out of the elevator. He held on to Mal and suddenly noticed that the boy was clinging tightly to his jacket sleeve as though it was the only thing that would keep him on Earth.

Sam and Bobby flanked Dean and Mal as they as quickly as possible made their way towards the doors leading to the outside and to freedom. Mal stayed on his feet though every step seemed to tire him more and more. Dean kept his eyes fixed on the doors, not daring to take his eyes away from them. They reached the doors and Sam immediately pushed them open and held them until Dean, Mal and Bobby were through.

"We're outside, Mal, okay?" Dean muttered. "We just need to get to the car."

Each step was painfully long. It seemed that every second lasted five minutes as they made their slow progress towards the Impala. Mal's weight on Dean's sleeve was increasing with every step and Dean could practically feel the energy and life seeping out of the boy.

"Stop a minute." Dean said and Sam and Bobby immediately stopped and looked at him. "Look after Mal for a moment. I'll go and get the car."

Dean wondered why he had not thought about that earlier, but he blamed the stress of the situation. With little difficulty Dean handed Mal over to Sam who helped to hold the kid on his feet, before charging off towards the car. The car was not far away from them so it did not take him long to cover the distance. He was grateful when he was finally sat behind the wheel of his trusty vehicle and he quickly started it up and drove towards Sam, Bobby and Mal.

"Get in; come on!" Dean hurried them as the car came to a halt. Sam guided Mal to the backseat while Bobby quickly took to riding shotgun. Sam did not say anything but got into the backseat next to Mal, who was now leaning back against the seat, his eyes closed.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when they finally drove out of the hospital parking lot. It was a very long day.

"How's he doing, Sam?" Bobby asked, quickly checking the mirror in the car.

"Not good." Sam admitted and Dean too looked in the mirror to see Mal's face looking paler than before and his breathing troubled.

"Bobby, do you know of anything that will help him?" Dean asked, somehow relying on the older hunter to have the solutions for all of these problems.

"I don't know, Dean," Bobby answered rather slowly and quietly, "I have usually only had to save human life; not demon life."

Dean swore quietly under his breath as he desperately rattled his brains for any ideas.

"Holy shit!" Dean yelled as he had to suddenly swerve the Impala away from the horse that had just jumped onto the road in front of them.

"Dean, go!" Sam shouted.

The engine had died in the swerve to avoid hitting the horse so Dean quickly tried turning the key, but for once in Dean's life the car failed him.

"Come on, come on." Dean urged the car quietly, turning the key a few times as he spoke.

"Dean." Sam suddenly said and Dean caught the worrying tone in his voice.

A tapping on Dean's window brought his attention to what Sam had tried to warn him about. Kaloc, in human form, was standing outside his window, hand still raised by the glass.

"I need to talk to you." Kaloc said, his voice slightly muffled by the car.

Dean glanced at Bobby before opening his door, a tight grip on his gun that was still tucked into his trousers.

"What do you want?" Dean demanded, keeping his eyes on Kaloc who was stood a couple of metres away from the car.

"Mal is dying." Kaloc said and Dean was surprised to hear a hint of emotion in the demon's voice.

"Yeah, I know." Dean said, less cold than before.

"What are you planning to do about that?" Kaloc asked.

"That's none of your business." Dean replied, gripping hold of his gun a little tighter.

"Let's not start that argument." Kaloc said. "Mal will die if he does not get the help he needs." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, looking suddenly more human than Dean had ever seen him. "Look, I tried to get the human out of him…"

"Beat the human out of him, you mean." Dean responded rather coolly.

"It couldn't be done." Kaloc said, ignoring Dean's comment. "He could have died and he will die now if you don't do something."

"We'll think of something." Dean said firmly even though he had no idea what they would do.

"I know of something that would save him." Kaloc answered, his tone as firm as Dean's.

"What?" Dean questioned, battling with himself whether or not he should really be listening to a word Kaloc was saying.

"It would be a poison to anybody but him – or me. It will counter-act the medication the doctors gave him." Kaloc said and Dean noticed his English accent becoming even more pronounced when he spoke in a hurry.

"Will it kill him?"

"No."

"And you are absolutely sure of that?"

"Yes."

"Where is it?"

"At our house."

"I am not falling for that plan." Dean said, raising his gun slowly and pointing it at Kaloc.

"This is not a plan for me to get Mal back; this is a plan for us to save the boy's life." Kaloc exclaimed, gesturing towards the car as he spoke.

"You can't honestly expect me to believe that you will let all of us go to the house, save Mal, and leave…with Mal?" Dean reasoned, somehow wishing that Sam was there.

"I have told you what will save him and it is the only thing that I know of, so his death will not be on my hands." Kaloc answered rather heatedly.

"It's your fault he is in that condition in the first place; it's your fault he was in the hospital; it's your fault he was even in town." Dean exclaimed, readjusting his fingers slightly on the gun.

A smile tucked at the side of Kaloc's mouth for a moment as he clearly thought about what had been said.

"If we go into an argument besides the matter at hand, we will be here all night." Kaloc said finally.

"Probably would." Dean agreed, still holding his gun steady, pointing it at Kaloc's face. Dean thought for a moment as he tried to figure something out that would save Mal's life without involving Kaloc. "Give me one good reason why I should trust you on this."

"I haven't killed you or your brother…yet." Kaloc answered, a smile playing on his lips again.

"Not good enough." Dean said simply, though he knew that in a way it was true. Kaloc had had plenty of chances to kill them both, Bobby too, but he had not.

"Okay," Kaloc drawled, blinking slightly out of irritation, "I got you out of the hospital."

"That was not all down to you, dude." Dean chuckled.

"I'm pretty certain it would have been a bit harder without my distraction." Kaloc answered truthfully.

It hurt Dean to even think it, but the demon was right.

"You knew we were coming, didn't you?" Dean questioned as realisation hit him.

"I had my suspicions that you wouldn't simply leave the boy at the hospital." Kaloc answered. "So yes, I waited for you to arrive."

Dean did not answer, but merely stood still, his gun pointing directly at Kaloc should the demon make a move towards the car. He did not know what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was put any trust in Kaloc, but it was Mal's life on the line.

"Time's ticking." Kaloc muttered, bringing Dean back to the situation at hand.

"Wait here a minute." Dean ordered firmly as he slowly backed up towards the car. Kaloc nodded slowly, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam demanded as soon as Dean opened the door to talk to the others. He cast a quick glance at mal and noticed that the boy was even worse than a few minutes before.

"He has a cure." Dean said, nodding his head in Kaloc's direction.

"And so what?" Sam questioned. "You are not exactly thinking about trusting him, are you?"

"I don't know, Sam; the way I see it we are running out of options…and time." Dean added with another look at Mal.

"What does this cure involve?" Bobby asked.

"He says that it would be a poison to anyone else – I suppose he meant it would be a poison to anyone human." Dean answered quickly.

"Then wouldn't it be a poison to Mal as well?" Sam asked.

"I don't know." Dean admitted. "Look, do any of you two know of something that could help him?"

Bobby shook his head reluctantly and Sam guiltily looked at mal before he too shook his head.

"Exactly." Dean sighed.

"So you think we should trust him?" Sam asked, clearly not agreeing on those terms.

"No, we should definitely not trust him." Dean replied, running a hand through his short hair. "But, dude, I don't think he wants to see his son dead."

"And what exactly gave you that idea?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"I…er…he told me that he had tried to get the human out before and it had not worked. He honestly seemed to care whether Mal lived or died….just in his own way." Dean finished, taking a shaky breath.

"It is not normally in my nature to trust a demon." Bobby said.

"Tell me about it." Sam sighed, though after a brief pause he added, "Where is it, this so called cure?"

"That's the bombshell. It's in their house." Dean answered rather reluctantly.

"Dude, you're joking, right?" Sam exclaimed.

"No, I'm not joking, Sam." Dean hissed back at him. "Is he in any coherent state to understand anything?" Dean asked as he pointed at Mal.

"I don't think so." Sam admitted quietly.

"Okay." Bobby said quietly.

"Okay…what?" Dean asked, looking at the older man and professional hunter.

"Okay, we should go with him; but under no circumstances do we trust him." Bobby growled at them.

Dean nodded once before turning to Kaloc who was stood in the exact same place and position as before.

"Okay, we'll do it." Dean said, though his heart was racing as his mind was already screaming at him.

"Let's go then." Kaloc answered and started towards the car.

"Ah, now see that? That is just not going to happen, dude." Dean said, a crooked smile making its way onto his face. "You can run on in front, or behind. I'm pretty sure we can find our way."

Kaloc's jaw was set and he blinked slightly, though made a curt nod of the head. Dean smiled at him once more before dropping into the driver's seat of the Impala and igniting the engine, watching Kaloc in the rear-view mirror as his human form was replaced by that of a wolf.

"I was so not having him in my car." Dean informed the others as he started making his way towards Mal's old house.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I've been under the mercy of college work and exams. Exams are now over and college lets out in two and a half weeks. Quite sad really; they have this great place to write fanfiction called the LRC (Learning Resource Center) which is the place where you do your homework in your free periods...or write fanfiction...like me!

Disclaimer: Not mine except for Mal and Kaloc.

* * *

The black Impala pulled up in front of the old house, which looked eerily creepy in the darkness and silence of the early evening. Dean turned off the engine and got out of the car before opening the door to the backseat. Sam was supporting Mal somewhat, the worrying frown on his forehead increasing slightly as the minutes ticked by. Bobby got out too and walked round the other side of the car to assist Dean if he should need it.

"Do you need any help?" Sam asked as Dean lifted Mal out of the car.

"No, that's okay; I got it." Dean assured his brother quietly. Sam nodded before he too got out of the car and closed the door.

"Where the hell is he then?" Bobby growled, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of Kaloc.

Dean whispered a few reassuring words to Mal as the boy whimpered slightly again.

"There he is." Sam said and pointed towards the road they had just come, where a big, black wolf was running towards them.

As the wolf neared them it slowed down to a walk before Kaloc stood before them in human form. He cast a look at Mal, though his emotion behind his eyes was unreadable.

"Let's go." Kaloc said, his voice quiet and deep.

Dean indicated for the demon to lead the way and was glad to see that both Bobby and Sam had their guns at the ready. Kaloc lead them quickly round the back of the house and Dean had a vague suspicion he knew where Kaloc was taking them; he only hoped he was wrong. They stopped in front of a worn wooden door where Kaloc pulled out a key and unlocked it. He slipped inside and flicked a light switch on the wall, which cast a dim light on the wooden staircase leading down into the basement, confirming Dean's suspicions.

Kaloc walked ahead of the down the stairs followed by Bobby, then Dean with Mal and Sam bringing up the rear. Dean had to take it slow so as not to loose balance on the creaking steps. Dean looked around the room once he reached the floor and was at least grateful that there was not as much blood as there had been the last time he had been there, though everything else stood as it had before.

"How come all of this stuff is still here?" Dean asked, looking over at Kaloc who was fiddling with a lock on one of the cabinets lining the opposite wall from the staircase.

"Not so many people are keen on coming anywhere near when there is a wolf lurking about." Kaloc answered him without looking around.

"Did you kill anyone?" Sam questioned the demon.

"No, but I think I landed a few in the hospital." Kaloc said, turning around as he did to look at them.

"And no one came to get rid of this wolf?" Dean asked, adjusting Mal's weight slightly in his arms, as the boy started to feebly push him off.

"There was no wolf there when they came, and once they were gone, the wolf was back." Kaloc finished and turned back to the cabinet. "You can put him on the bed."

Dean looked at the bed and thought that it seemed more like a torture instrument, which he supposed it had been, but at least the bloodied sheets had been removed, leaving only a stained mattress behind. Dean did not want to put the boy on that bed ever again, but his arms were starting to feel heavy from carrying Mal around, and the boy's attempts to push him off were not helping. He sighed and slowly took a few steps towards the bed.

Mal mumbled something and pushed slightly against Dean again. Sam walked close to Dean and Mal while Bobby kept an eye on Kaloc, who had finally got the cabinet open and was shifting through various glass bottles. Dean carefully lowered Mal onto the bed, taking care not to knock his head on the bar at the front of the bed, which he figured, with slight disgust, must have been where Kaloc tied the boy's hands to.

It seemed that mal only lay there for a couple of seconds before he tried to get off the bed faster than any of his limbs were ready to co-operate.

"Mal, easy, take it easy, okay?" Dean mumbled as he tried to get the boy to lie still.

"No…please…don't…" Mal managed to gasp through his ragged breaths.

"Hey, hey, hey, Mal come on, it's okay." Dean tried desperately to calm the boy, worried that this would only speed up the process of his deteriorating condition.

"We need to get him to drink this." Kaloc said and Dean looked up for a moment to see Kaloc holding a small vial, with a rather think, beige coloured liquid floating around in it.

"That looks vile." Dean said.

"Be glad you're not the one to drink it then." Kaloc said simply before walking over to the bed.

"Look, I swear that if this is another one of your twisted attempts to get the human out of him, I will kill you." Dean warned, still trying to keep Mal on the bed, now with some assistance from Sam.

"Do we really need to go through all of this again?" Kaloc sighed with a pointed look at Dean.

Dean mumbled something before sitting on the bed, one leg brought up on the mattress as he pulled Mal towards his chest.

"Alright; give it." Dean said, holding out a hand towards the vial. Kaloc gave it to him with a silent nod.

"Wait a minute." Bobby said and they all but Mal turned their attention towards him. "What will that do to him?"

"It will make him very ill," Kaloc admitted, "but while it does that it will also repair the damage done by the medication."

"So he should be alright…in the end?" Sam asked, clearly not ready to trust Kaloc in any way, shape or form.

"Yes, he should be alright." Kaloc answered with a slight note of irritation in his voice.

"Okay." Sam sighed, though he still seemed far from approving the idea.

"Sam, can you give me a hand here?" Dean asked but looked up when Kaloc moved forward. "Not you, though."

Kaloc seemed slightly angered but he kept quiet. Sam moved over to the other side of the bed and helped him hold Mal, who had stopped fighting but was instead shaking again. Dean kept muttering reassuring words in Mal's ear as he pried the boy's mouth open and poured the contents of the vial down his throat.

Mal started coughing and gagging immediately and would have doubled over had Dean and Sam not helped to hold him up. Unfortunately Mal's coughing fit meant that some of the liquid still remained in the vial and Dean had a vague idea that the boy had to down it all. Dean tried to hold Mal still again but this time the boy fought harder to throw off Dean's weight.

"Get off of me," Mal demanded as firmly as he could even though his words were slurred.

"Can't do that, kid," Dean said calmly and continued to try and minimize the boy's movements. This was something Dean hoped they had never come to. Who knew what the boy was thinking? It seemed he had recognised the basement somehow and was aware of Kaloc's presence. On top of that it was Dean holding him down; it was Dean who made sure he could not leave. That alone made Dean feel sick.

"I could help, you know." Kaloc said with a tone that almost suggested boredom.

"You just stay the hell away from him." Dean demanded and he was quite sure he saw Bobby tighten the hold on his gun. It was good to know that he was not alone.

Kaloc held up his hands in mock defence and backed up against the wall. Dean kept and eye on him for a moment, but the demon seemed to be keeping still. The eldest of the Winchester brothers turned his attention back to the teenager still fighting against him.

"Hey, Mal! Stop it, okay?" Dean almost pleaded with the boy. "We're trying to help you; trust me on this."

His words had no effect but Mal's movements started to weaken making it easier to hold him still. Sam had kindly taken to holding the vial while Dean tried to still Mal.

"And you're sure he has to have all of it?" Sam asked as he looked over at Kaloc for confirmation. Kaloc's eyes said it all but he made one small nod of the head as an answer.

"Bobby, just keep an eye on him." Dean said as he saw Bobby throw a hesitant glance in Dean's direction.

"You are quite the trio you three." Kaloc drawled. "I mean, you have faced the big, bad monsters of the night, but the mere task of getting a teenager to drink something that will save his life seems impossible."

"Shut up, Kaloc." Dean mumbled.

By now, Dean was giving up trying to be all friendly with Mal. He had hoped the boy would listen to him but it seemed that safety walls had erupted around Mal's mind, not allowing any word to penetrate. He forcibly grabbed Mal with one arm and closed it around Mal's chest, pinning the boy's arms to his sides. Mal tried with feeble attempts to push Dean off but Dean was determined not to let go.

"Sam." Dean prompted holding out his free hand towards the vial which Sam quickly handed to him.

To say it was difficult to get the boy to drink anything would have been nominated as understatement of the year. Mal repeatedly turned his head away with mumbled pleads to leave him alone.

"Need any help?" Sam asked as he watched his brother struggle.

"I would have loved to say no, but I think that…er…" Dean rambled.

"Dean…" Sam said simply.

"Yes." Dean answered his brother's original question. "Could you hold the vial again?"

Sam took the vial from Dean's outstretched hand and plopped down on the bed on the other side of Mal.

"You know that if you just accepted my help this would go a lot faster." Kaloc said with a sigh, his eyes resting on the brothers and Mal.

"Not going to happen, Kaloc." Bobby growled and this time Dean was certain he saw the hunter's fingers tighten around the handle of the gun.

Kaloc mumbled something neither of them could hear before leaning back against the wall.

Dean used his free hand to grab Mal's jaw, hoping with all his might that when all of this was over Mal would have forgotten this specific episode. He hated forcing Mal to do anything against his will – who knew how many times that had happened before. Kaloc was not exactly the type to simply ask politely; it was more a matter of 'do it or else'. Dean made eye-contact with Sam and nodded once when his younger brother asked the silent question of whether Dean was ready.

Sam's eyes showed his hurt over the situation, but Dean tried to ignore it as he gripped Mal's jaw tighter in an effort to hold the boy still and pry his mouth open. Both proved difficult but Mal's weakened state made it all the easier and Dean quickly had Mal in the position he wanted. Sam hurriedly poured the rest of the contents from the vial down Mal's throat, and once Dean was sure the boy had swallowed he released the hold on his jaw.

Mal's body immediately fell forwards in a series of coughing spasms, only being prevented from falling off the bed completely by Dean's arm around his chest. Dean slowly realised that he was starting to feel physically sick over the situation but he pushed the feeling away.

"Dean?" Sam's worried and agitated voice brought Dean out of his thoughts.

"What is it, Sam?" Dean asked as he looked up at his brother and was slightly surprised to see how freaked out Sam looked.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Sam questioned with a nod at Mal.

Dean quickly lifted Mal's chin up to look at the boy's face though it was slightly hard considering he was still coughing. Blood was slowly dripping out of Mal's nose and down onto the mattress of the bed, resulting in the fresh blood joining the old blood stains already present.

"What the hell is happening to him?" Dean demanded as he looked Kaloc directly in the eye, daring the demon to lie.

"I told you he would be very ill." Kaloc said in a rather bored tone.

"You said he was going to be very ill, not start bleeding." Dean shouted at the demon.

"You think he is bad now?" Kaloc asked, looking at Dean with a stare so cold it felt as it he was looking straight through him. "He is only going to get worse."

"You said it would save his life!" Dean yelled as he freed himself from Mal, placing the boy in Sam's arms instead.

"Did Daddy never teach you not to trust the words of a demon?" Kaloc said mockingly as a smirk crept onto his face.

"Why are you so determined to kill him?" Dean asked, feeling his anger rise by the second, but he knew he was not the only one as he heard Bobby growl, "son of a bitch."

"Who said I was determined to kill him?" Kaloc said as he slowly paced before the cabinets. "Last time I checked I was not the one to pour that stuff into him." The words hit Dean harder than a physical blow because he knew that somehow Kaloc was right. He was the one who had trusted Kaloc enough to accept his help. He was the one, with help from Sam, who had made Mal drink whatever it was Kaloc had given them. Hell, the moment Sam had found out Mal was not completely human he had come storming into the motel room, gun loaded and at the ready.

"You goddamn son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, his voice rising with every word.

"I am deeply honoured to be on the receiving end of your anger." Kaloc said, clearly unfazed by Dean's outburst. "Besides, I didn't say he was going to die." That got the hunters' full attention. "If the demon in him is still strong enough to put up a fight – the human too – then he will survive. If not…well…" He made a decreasing whistling sound and a hand movement of a plane going down before stopping the motion and making the sound of an explosion. "Boom. He's dead."

Dean glanced quickly at Mal who had finally stopped coughing but was instead growing paler than before.

"What was it?" Bobby growled as he clicked the safety off the gun which was pointed directly at Kaloc's face.

"What was what?" Kaloc sighed.

"You know what." Bobby snarled.

"Yeah, I know what." Kaloc returned coldly. "It's called Daemonkuren. Look it up."

"Will do as soon as I've killed you." Bobby answered, his voice dangerously low and calm.

"Take your best shot." Kaloc said, throwing his arms out to the sides, exposing his chest, a smirk plastered on his face.

Dean whipped out his gun and fired three shots in succession, but as the bullets left the gun, Kaloc's human form disappeared. Dean looked around, confusion lining his features as he tried to figure out what had just happened. Kaloc had disappeared. Dean eyed the floor as he took a step forward and just caught sight of a big, black rate disappearing through a hole in the wall. He fired at it even though he knew it was too late.

"That is your truest form yet, bitch!" Dean shouted as he kicked at the hole a few times in a frustration.

"Dean, come on, we need to get out of here." Sam said anxiously and Dean turned to see him standing with Mal in his arms, the boy's head resting against his shoulder.

Dean took a deep breath in the hope of calming himself down a bit before nodding and walking towards the stairs leading out of the basement. He could not wait to get out of there. He heard Sam following with Mal and Bobby behind them, but he could not bring himself to turn around in case he should catch another glimpse of the torture chamber. He could hardly believe that Kaloc had managed to get away again.

He gulped in some air as soon as he kicked the door. He barely resisted the urge to hit or kick something and also managed not to shout out in rage. That was exactly what he felt, but most of that rage was directed at himself. However, he knew that he had to bottle those feelings for a while as that would do nothing to help their current situation.

Dean kept his gun out, as did Bobby, when they hurriedly made their way back towards the Impala, which was dully reflecting the bright light from the moon. He glanced back quickly towards the house, but could see no sign of Kaloc.

"How's he doing, Sam?" Dean asked as they reached the Impala.

"Not good." Sam replied honestly as he got himself and Mal situated in the backseat while Bobby took to riding shotgun.

Dean looked at Mal and his worry increased when he saw the pale texture of Mal's skin and the dark circles that were appearing under his eyes. The blood from his nose had thankfully stopped, but the kid did by no means look as if he was improving.

"He can never have an easy day, can he?" Dean muttered as he slipped into the driver's seat. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before stuffing his gun back into his trousers and turning to the others. "So, where to?"

"See how quickly you can get back to my house. I'll see what I can do there." Bobby answered.

Dean immediately started the engine and quickly put the car in gear. It was not long before the Impala was speeding on the road back to Bobby's house.

"Bobby, have you ever heard of this, Daemonkuren?" Sam asked some ten minutes later.

"The name rings a bell but I can't remember exactly." Bobby replied and Dean was quite sure he heard a note of frustration in the older hunter's voice. "Can't this old piece of junk go any faster?"

Dean's jaw dropped for a second as a gaped at Bobby. Nobody insulted his baby, no matter the situation. He eased the pedal down to the floor and felt a tuck in his body as the Impala quickly increased its speed.

"You're a brave man, Bobby Singer." Sam muttered from the backseat, clearly not daring to say too much.

"Satisfied, old man?" Dean questioned with a quick pointed look at Bobby.

Bobby merely grunted in response.

Mal's coughing fits increased in severity during the journey, each worse than the one before. The only thing to be grateful for was that his nosebleed at least had stopped, but that satisfying thought did nothing to dull Dean's fear over Sam's frantic words and hour and a half or so into the journey.

"Oh God, he's coughing up blood."

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Sorry about the cliffy. ;-)

Please leave a review to tell me whether I can just as well pack up and go home after the long wait. ;-)


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Again, sorry for the long update but summer has been quite hectic. Thanks so much for the people who reviewed the last chapter - you made my day!

Now, this chapter is all from Bobby's perspective as I thought it was time we heard a little bit from the old geezer. ;-)

Disclaimer: You know this by now, right?

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It had been three days. Three long days and nights where the Winchesters and Bobby had taken turns in watching over Mal. The teenager's condition had deteriorated considerably during the drive home to Bobby's house and when they finally arrived Bobby had thought for a moment that the boy was dead. He had continued coughing up blood during the drive and the nosebleed had resumed. Once they had arrived Mal had lost consciousness and was completely non-responsive no matter how hard the three men had tried to wake him. Bobby's fear of the boy dying, though, had apparently come too soon considering Mal's heart had stopped beating and his lungs had stopped taking in air twenty-four hours after their arrival at Bobby's house.

Bobby wondered when the last time was he had seen Dean in such a frantic state and was quite certain it was something he wished never to see again. Thankfully Dean's frustration had worked to the extent that he had performed the CPR quickly enough to bring the boy back but none of the hunters knew what could come of it. They all worried that the boy would fall into a coma and if that was the case, Bobby's house would simply not be suitable.

All three hunters had realised they had been holding their breath when a couple hours after that certain incident Mal showed signs of maybe not being conscious, but certainly not in a comatose. For the past two days the three hunters had been taken turns in watching over him as the boy was constantly muttering in a delirious state as he tossed and turned. Sam had given them all quite a scare when, on his watch, he had come running to Bobby and Dean telling them that Mal now had a high fever. Though it would be hard for Bobby to ever admit it, he had been very relieved when Mal's fever broke only a couple of hours later. Bobby had assured Dean that Mal was a strong kid and would fight this, but he had seen the flash of uncertainty in Dean's eyes and felt it himself.

However, it had now been three days and Bobby was on watch. It was around two o'clock at night and he was sitting in a chair by the desk having a low glow from a lamp to assist his reading. He thought that since he had to sit here he could just as well do some research at the same time, though the research had turned into a reading of _Lord of the Flies_. Bobby sat in the low gloom of light reading, occasionally raising his gaze to the boy on the bed before him hoping that no more surprises were in store and that the kid's condition would finally improve considerably, because, to put it frankly, he was not sure it was good for him to worry so much.

It was quite true that when the two boys had arrived with the half-demon at his house he was quite ready to kill the kid. He was ashamed of that now. He knew it was only perfected hunter instincts but this time they had let him down because he was not about to turn around and kill a sixteen year old boy simply because of who his father was. That was too cold and too cruel. Getting to know the boy and more of what had happened to him had got the older hunter thinking because he was wondering if maybe others he had killed had a similar story and shouldn't have been killed at all. He had quickly and purposefully pushed the thought away because it did nobody good to dwell on guilt.

Bobby looked up from his book when the kid moaned rather loudly and tossed lightly in the bed. At least he was moving, so he was alive. The hunter only hoped it wouldn't be too long before the teen would open his eyes again. It could not do anyone good to rest for that long especially when they had died and come back in the process. Bobby slowly put his bookmarker in place and put the book on the table beside the lamp on the small table which was situated next to the bed. He moved slightly closer to the bed in the hope of hearing what Mal was now muttering under his breath.

Mal's voice hitched as he mumbled and the volume changed slightly as he spoke making it hard to understand every word but Bobby tried to catch on.

"…shut up…no, I don't want to…leave me alone…please…"

Bobby had a feeling he did not even want to know what the boy dreaming about; who knew how twisted his father had been with him. Then again, the man was not even a man, but a demon. The hunter had decided long ago that he did not like demons to say the least but that thought had only been strengthened by meeting Kaloc.

He had looked up the Deamonkuren and had found what he had expected; there was nothing anyone could do about it. It was for demons and it could even be dangerous for demons. The only thing one could do was sit and wait to see if the victim of it would survive. Bobby, however, had a theory that in Mal's case he had a harder time considering that once the demon was restored inside of him the human and demon would probably have a jolly old time deciding who was going to dominate the mind of the host. Considering the severity of some of Mal's nightmares, Bobby would personally say that the human was the stronger side.

The hunter looked at the boy and couldn't help but wonder if his wife had never been possessed by a demon, could he have been sitting at the exact same spot watching his own son sleep? Hopefully, though, that image would have been without the boy being plagued by nightmares of a horrible past. He had learned long ago not to dwell on such thoughts as they, like guilt, did him nothing good.

Still, seeing the boy so disturbed while fighting for his life he could not help but awkwardly stretching a hand out and gingerly giving the boy's left should a light squeeze hoping to offer at least some comfort through the nightmares. To his slight surprise he noticed the boy's frantic movements lessening slightly, but he quickly passed that off as having nothing to do with him and that it was simply a coincidence.

He cleared his throat and leant back in the chair and reached out a hand towards the book when Mal whimpered causing Bobby to look at the boy a little closer noticing a single tear track its way down his cheek. The sight stirred a strange feeling in Bobby. It was one hunters usually tried to hide away deep down so it wouldn't interfere with the job. To feel sympathy and sadness towards another person was not something Bobby did often; he at least wouldn't show it. He had never appreciated John Winchester's ways of bringing up his boys but he had tried hard not to let it show because it was not his business; that was of course until the day he had shoved a shotgun in John's face and ordered him to get out.

Bobby tentatively raised his hand again and planted it carefully on Mal's left shoulder again, though this time he left it resting there for a while, waiting to see whether his awkward squeeze before really had offered some comfort to the boy.

Another tear slid down the boy's face, followed by another as he continued to mumble this time slightly louder than before, and Bobby could no longer stand listening to the boy's pleas for everything to stop. Without second thought, the hunter raised his hand to Mal's face and quietly wiped away the tears with his thumb, leaving his hand to rest timidly on Mal's messy hair.

The boy quieted down after that and somewhat relaxed to which Bobby was rather relieved. To say that the boy had been through enough lately without the nightmares would probably be quite true, though also near to an understatement. Bobby withdrew his hand after a while and settled back in his chair and picked up his book, determined to continue reading as he was treading dreadfully near to one of Dean's hated chick-flick moments. He was not going to go there. Mal was half-demon after all and he would kill him in a heartbeat if the demon won over the human. Would he? Could he really do that after he had got the chance to get to know the boy better? Bobby was beginning to doubt.

What was Mal to all of them now; to him? Was he simply a job? Was he starting to become part of the team? Or was it more than that? Bobby was starting to get slightly confused, which was a horribly thing, if you asked Bobby. Confusing let to uncertainty which could get you killed. They all knew not to underestimate Mal's fighting abilities but the boy had never shown any direct desire to downright kill them. Bobby decided that was a good enough reason not to even consider killing the boy and possibly allowing himself to feel something near parental for the teen.

Mal had been quiet for a while and Bobby only hoped that it was because he was simply sleeping peacefully rather than drifting off into a place he had visited only to days prior.

During the early hours of morning Bobby's unasked question was answered when Mal slowly blinked his eyes open. His eyes drifted slightly until they landed on Bobby who was so enveloped in his book he had not seen Mal move.

"Where am I?" Mal's low, croaky voice caused Bobby to jump slightly in his chair and almost drop the book had he not caught it.

"Jesus, kid!" Bobby exclaimed quietly, breathing deeply to try to bring his heart rate back to normal. "Give me a heart attack why don't you!"

Bobby quickly put the book back on the table and took a good look at the kid. He looked like he had just been to hell and back. For all Bobby knew, he just had. He kicked himself slightly for being so jumpy but the boy was at least still so out of it that he had not taken Bobby's reaction personal.

"Where am I?" Mal murmured, his words slightly slurred, but Bobby believed that was to be expected after three days of sleep, including a death and a comeback.

"At my house." Bobby replied quietly trying hard not to get too excited about the boy's awakening.

"Why?" Mal asked, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" Bobby questioned, knowing full well how much Dean was beating himself up over what had happened.

"Well, no not really." Mal mumbled.

"You do know who I am, right?" Bobby asked, suddenly feeling that question was very necessary.

"Duh, yeah, you're Santa Clause." Mal joked quietly and a genuine smile that Bobby was unsure he had ever seen slipped onto the boy's face.

"Well, smart-arse, have to ask don't I? You dying on us and all." Bobby added a little quieter.

"I died?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"No, it wasn't. Trust me, it really wasn't." Bobby sighed, seeing the image of Dean desperately trying to get the boy's heart working again flash before his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, I think so." Mal said quietly as his eyes searched the room, for what Bobby did not know. "What happened?"

There was that question again, but to answer it with the truth would mean the whole truth but maybe if he did not remember that much it would maybe be better to leave it at that.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Bobby asked.

"I don't…I don't know." Mal said too quickly for his mind to catch on causing him to stumble over the words slightly. "The car…we were in the car to find Mike and he was fine…and then…then…father."

"Yeah; anything else?" Bobby enquired, half-hoping that Mal would at least be spared the memory of his last hospital visit and the rendezvous at his house in the basement.

"No, that's pretty much it." Mal answered, creasing his brow slightly in concentration before turning to Bobby with a pointed look.

"What?"

"So, what happened?" Mal repeated again.

"You took a bad fall." Bobby lied, hoping Mal would not ask too much about it.

"And I died?" Mal asked, clearly quite interested in that particular part of the story.

"At least the mouth still works." Bobby joked lightly.

"How long have I been out of it?"

What was this? Twenty questions for the president?

"Three days."

"Wow." Mal said again rather vacantly. "No wonder I need to go to the bathroom."

Had the situation been any different, Bobby would probably have laughed. The kid had died only two days before but now seemed quite content with joking around a bit.

"Do you need any help?" Bobby said, suddenly getting worried when the boy tried to get out of bed. The hunter also noticed the quick look Mal gave the pyjamas that he was wearing.

"I think I may just manage." Mal said with a quick smirk.

Something was wrong. That much was clear to Bobby. No one was unconscious for three days after having been practically poisoned, dies and then is this okay when they wake up. So, Bobby kept a very close eye on Mal as the boy slowly made his way across the room before Bobby had a chance to tell him to wait a bit before attempting to stand. Bobby followed close behind but waited patiently outside the bathroom after Mal gave him a _look_.

Bobby wondered if this new behaviour of Mal's was simply a mask to shield how he really felt. Why did the kid have to spend so much damn time around Dean?

The hunter was quite happy he had been standing just outside the bathroom because as Mal attempted to make his way over the threshold he stumbled slightly but Bobby caught him before he fell.

"I'm alright." Mal mumbled as he shook Bobby off.

"You really look it." Bobby said sarcastically. "I think you better lie down again."

"I'm fine." Mal tried to assure him, but Bobby could easily see the toll the boy's stroll to the bathroom had taken on his body.

"I'm sure you are –" Bobby began but was cut off when Mal tumbled to the ground, clutching his hears with his hand, his face a mask of pain. "Kid, kid what's wrong?"

"Shut up…please, just shut up." Mal whispered frantically and Bobby recognised the words from Mal's earlier nightmare.

"Mal, you're okay." Bobby assured the boy.

"No, Bobby, it won't stop." Mal ground out through gritted teeth.

"What won't stop?" Bobby questioned, slightly taken aback that Mal was not stuck in the past but knew full well where he was and what was going on.

"The voice." Mal gasped.

"What voice? Kid, come on talk to me." Bobby said, finding his voice sounding a bit too frantic for his own liking.

"The voice in my head…the voice of the demon. I can't make it stop."

If you are interested in a continuation, please let me know.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Thanks so much for the awesome reviews! Wow, thanks a lot guys.

In this fine little chapter (NB. overly happy tone required to read that line) you will get a little more inside into Mal's troubled and probably slightly psychotic mind. :-)

Enjoy!

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"Dean!"

His name was shouted along with a series of rapid knocks on the door. Dean rolled over onto his side in an effort to block out that voice. Sam could get the door for once. Who started banging on motel doors this time in the morning anyway? The knocking continued along with another shout of his name.

"Dean, get out of bed already!"

Sam. Why was calling him? He wearily opened his eyes and grunted. This was not a motel room. Of course it wasn't a motel room. He was out of bed and at the door before he even had time to blink.

"What took you so long?" Bobby asked before Sam got the chance as soon as Dean opened the door.

"Well…" Dean started but his voice trailed slightly as his mind finally registered that both Sam and Bobby was standing in front of him. "Why isn't one of you watching Mal?"

"That's why I've been trying to wake you for the last five minutes." Bobby answered sounding slightly irritated, but Dean only imagined the worst which must have shown on his face because Bobby quickly continued. "He's fine. He's woken up and is sitting downstairs in the living room."

"What?" Dean questioned. He had never before believed that dying and then sitting in a living room instead of resting was such a good plan. "Why isn't he in bed? He died, Bobby."

"You don't need to tell me that, sonny, I know. The thing is," Bobby continued with a sigh, "he is refusing to rest."

"He remembers." Dean mumbled. He had sincerely hoped that Mal's little death incident along with the Daemonkuren had wiped out the memory of what had happened in the basement.

"No, doesn't seem like it so far." Bobby assured him, which caused Dean to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"So he's alright?" Dean asked.

"Dean, just listen to what Bobby has to say." Sam cut in before Bobby had a chance to speak which earned him a death glare from Dean.

"I've already filled Sam in while we tried to wake you." The death glare was now directed at Bobby. "He's awake and alert but it seems he let something slip that he has not mentioned before. He hears the voice of the demon in his head."

"How did you find out about this?" Dean questioned while he quickly pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers.

"He collapsed."

"I thought you said he was alright."

"Dean, listen to me. He says that it speaks to him and that he can't get it stop. He is scared and I can't get through to him." Bobby said in a rush but his tone told Dean that the hunter cared more about the kid than he let on.

"Anything else?" Dean asked trying to sound as though he was not as worried as he was.

"Talk to him." Sam said after making quick eye contact with Bobby. "He trusts you more than us."

"Even after what happened before?" Dean said quite certain that simply could not be true.

"He does not remember. Dude, Bobby already said that." Sam said irritably.

"Jeez, don't freak out on me." Dean said, holding up both hands in mock defence. "I'll go."

With that he hurried out of the room quiet aware of two pairs of eyes burying into his back but at that precise moment he did not care if he seemed like a mother hen because he had been freaking out for the last three days and now the cause for those troubles was finally awake. He hurried down the stairs hoping that Bobby had not lied when he had said that the kid was alright, but on a more selfish front, he also hoped that Bobby had been right about the little memory loss.

Bobby had certainly been right about the boy being in the living room. He was sat on the couch rocking slightly backwards and forwards wearing dark sweat pants and a t-shirt. He was pale. Way too pale for Dean's liking but he was alive.

"Look who decided to join the land of the living." Dean joked as he slipped on a smile and leant against the doorframe looking at the boy, whose head shot up and for a moment he looked most like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hi." Mal said rather hoarsely as he realised who it was standing in the doorway.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked as he made his way over to the couch and sat down next to the boy, getting slightly more worried when he noticed how worn out the boy looked.

"Alright, considering." Mal answered rather vacantly. "You know, apart form having regular conversations with my other half."

"That's very funny, but no one's laughing." Dean said.

"Yeah, I noticed. It sucks." Mal said.

Dean could not help smirk slightly at the boy's attempt at light-hearted humour even though Dean was a bit worried he was rubbing off on the boy because the whole attitude of covering things up with humour was his area of expertise.

"So, what's up?" Dean gathered it would probably be best to get right to it.

"What, you're my shrink now?" Mal questioned and Dean did not miss the slightly heated note to his voice.

"No." Dean answered him simply.

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I heard."

"If you know everything already then why are you asking me?" Mal snapped.

Who just did a hundred-and-eighty degree mood swing? Dean had to remind himself that Mal was, half-demon or not, still a teenager. Dean resigned to simply raising his eyebrows at Mal before answering. It wasn't as if this was the first time he was dealing with a teenager. Sam had been rather rebellious at that age.

"I would like to hear it from you." Dean said promptly ignoring Mal's attitude.

However, what Dean had not expected was for the boy to clam up like an oyster and limply shake his head only to resume his light rocking back and forth.

"Mal…" Dean prompted after a full minute had gone by.

"I'm crazy." Mal muttered.

"No you're not." Dean said with a little too much enthusiasm.

"I'm completely bonkers." Mal said vacantly.

"No you're not." Dean repeated, this time lacking the enthusiasm.

"How do you know?" Mal asked looking rather helpless as he finally raised his gaze to meet Dean's.

"You're not, okay, trust me on this one." Dean said, hoping that was assurance enough.

"I have a voice in my head," Mal said slowly pointing to his head as he spoke, "so, you tell me how that does not classify as someone completely off his rocket."

"You aren't exactly normal." Dean reasoned.

"Thank you." Mal said sarcastically and turned his gaze to the floor.

"You seem to be okay." Dean said quietly as he watched the boy push some of his dark hair out of his face.

"I already told you I'm fine." Mal said. "I just…"

"What?" Dean pressed on.

"What happened?" Mal asked looking directly at Dean again, making Dean feel like the boy was daring him to lie.

"Bobby didn't tell you?" Dean questioned even though he already knew the hunter hadn't.

"No, but I think it may be coming back to me slightly." Mal said making Dean stiffen slightly. "I went back to the hospital, right?"

"Yeah." Dean answered with a nod.

"I couldn't remember that before. Now, I…I don't know." Mal muttered.

"I'm so sorry." Dean whispered, knowing it would be wrong to keep lying.

"I'm sure it was not your fault." Mal said tonelessly.

"Yeah, that would be good." Dean mumbled looking anywhere but at Mal for a moment.

Mal groaned suddenly causing Dean to snap his attention back to the boy. The teenager was holding his head tightly as he held it between his legs.

"Mal, are you okay?" Dean asked as he tentatively raised a hand but put it down when he was unsure what to do with it.

"It was quiet for a while." Mal mumbled as continued to rock slightly backwards still with his head held in his hands.

"What does it say?" Dean had no idea if this was the right time or thing to ask but he had slowly started to wonder why it was taking such a toll on the boy. Sure, having someone yapping in your head all day was sure to tire you out eventually but Mal looked ill.

"I can't…" Mal muttered, and this time Dean could not but put a hopefully reassuring hand on the teenager's shoulder.

"You can." Dean encouraged actually sincerely hoping that Sam was not listening into the conversation because this was starting to sound awfully like a chick-flick.

"It tells me to kill…constantly." Mal said, his voice cracking slightly even though he clearly tried to not break down. "I keep reminding me of what happened, a-a-and what I did. It was never this bad. I can't stop it."

Dean was about to say something when he caught unto what Mal had just said; 'what_ I_ did', not 'what _he_ did'. To tell the truth Dean was rather disturbed by Mal's whole little confession but those three words kept running in his mind and his mouth had this annoying and inconvenient habit of talking before his mind said 'no'.

"What _you_ did?"

_Damn it, where did that come from? _Dean Winchester was of that moment the most unsympathetic person.

"Did I say that?" Mal asked but Dean did not miss the guarded tone which clearly told him that this was not something that the boy should keep inside.

"Yep, you want to tell me what that is all about?" Dean questioned as Mal slowly raised his head.

"No."

"I think you should."

"I don't want to."

"Sound more like a child."

"What?" Mal snapped his head directly to the side to look Dean in the eye and though Dean had expected the kid to look angry he looked mostly hurt.

"That came out wrong." Dean said weakly.

"Okay, shrink, you really want to know what happened?" Mal snapped as he tried to push himself up from the couch but failed causing him to sit back down.

"What happened when?" Dean said, feeling as though this conversation was going completely the wrong way.

"My father and I kept moving around, he even enrolled me in school every now ad then though he seemed to think that was the least important thing." Mal said quickly looking anywhere but at Dean. "I was fourteen years old when we were in a pretty good neighbourhood for once. I never tried to make any friends," here he was forced to take a deep breath to get his voice back under control, "so, I was sitting somewhere in an alley reading some book trying to see how long I could put off returning home. A cop came by and he quite obviously thought that I was some drug addict." Dean had no idea why the kid just smiled; maybe he thought that was hilariously funny considering the situation he was in himself. "I was in a pretty bad mood and along with being a fourteen year old that did not go well, so to make a long story short he took me to the station."

"Yikes." Dean murmured, not wanting to form any distraction but feeling the need to say something.

"I don't know how long I sat in there," Mal continued as though Dean had not spoken, "because I slowly figured out that I was not just there because of the whole drug business. Apparently the officer who had picked me up, Officer Blackhurst his name was, had thought something was off. Guess he was right, huh?"

"Yeah." Dean answered, forcing himself to say as little as possible in the hope that he would not stop Mal talking, because the kid was not exactly easy to get talking.

"I clammed up, and absolutely refused to take my shirt off, but since they had no real evidence for anything, drugs or no drugs, they could not hold me there so I could leave." Mal took a deep breath before continuing, "I met Officer Blackhurst again the next day; apparently I was in his patrolling area. I told him to leave me alone. We played around like that for a few days until he eventually got me to stay still for five minutes and talk. I told him nothing but he gave me his number and address anyway before taking his leave."

Mal stopped talking and instead managed to push himself off the couch. He walked rather unsteadily over to the window where he rested his hands on the windowsill and let his eyes rest on the sunlight playing on his skin.

"Mal, what is it?" Dean asked but he forced himself to stay seated knowing that Mal had most likely left the couch because he needed some space. Dean only hoped that all of this was not too much for him after his three days of touch and go.

"One evening Father had been a little harder on me than I could handle at that stage. He was in one of those phases where he desperately tried to let the demon take control over the human side. I was pretty beaten up including a knife wound."

"What?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Dean." Mal said vacantly. "His attempts to get me to fight back had been unsuccessful causing a knife to make a cut across my stomach. It wasn't too bad but it hurt…everywhere. He left me like that and I took a chance. I got myself up from the ground where I had so gracefully plummeted and made my way to Officer Blackhurst's house."

Dean did not like where this little tale was going but then again Mal had never spoken of anything really so if this was where he started, Dean could only hope that it was true it was good to talk about your problems.

"He was home." Mal said as he raised his gaze to stare out the window. I didn't show him or tell him anything about the knife wound at first but after taking one look at my face he practically demanded that I took my shirt off. So, there it was and he was not exactly happy. I said he had to get me to a hospital and was already getting his things when…when…" he paused and Dean could practically see him re-living this precise memory. "Father came. I don't know how he knew where I was." A single tear escaped Mal's eye and traced its way down his cheek, "Blackhurst tried to get him out of the house but what can you do against a demon, you know? Father killed him. He just killed him…right there in front of me. Oh god…"

And then he broke.

He tried to stay on his feet but fell to his knees on the floor by the window, curling in on himself with his hands round his head. Dean could not sit there any longer. He had made it over to the boy in about nought point three seconds and for a brief moment wondered what the hell he would have done if this was Sam, because this was way beyond his brother and parental skills. He decided to forget about thinking, but instead simply acting.

He was not a big fan of hugs but he could see when someone was in great need of one. He pulled Mal into his arms and gently rubbed circles on the boy's back, now not even caring if Sam was watching. The threat of a potential chick-flick seemed like nothing now.

"I killed him." Mal croaked between sobs.

"No, you didn't." Dean retaliated rather strongly but he knew that it would never do anyone any good with carrying guilt around, and even though he would never admit it to anyone, especially not himself, he was living proof.

"If I hadn't gone to his house he would never have died." Mal said.

"Mal, listen to me; look at me," Dean said firmly as he held Mal's face in his hands, forcing the boy to look at him, "this was not your fault, okay? I want you to be very clear on that. If you need to blame someone, blame your father because quite frankly he's an ass."

Mal shifted his gaze downward and took a deep, shaky breath. This was enough for Dean to pull him back into the hug. For once he was willing to hold on for as long as Mal needed to, though he had certainly not been prepared for the next words that came out of the boy's mouth.

"Why did you make go back?"

* * *

I realised that I forgot the disclaimer at the top, but I don't suppose you suddenly think that I am the master brain behind Supernatural, do you?

Please be great (as usual) and drop in a review! Thank you! ;-)


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: Oh yes dear faithful readers I am back. After illness, chronic nosebleeds, christmas, new year, beginning of a new term at college and exams, writing have not been on top of the list. Fear not, though, my muse is back with a vengeance...I hope. So please do not forget to read the Author's Note at the end if you even read that far. ;-)

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone but Mal.

Anywho, onwards with the story...important chapter this too!

* * *

"_Why did you make me go back?"_

Dean froze. What did the boy mean by that? Was he talking about having to remember something from his past that he would rather have forgotten, or had the memory of being taken back to the basement finally come back to him? Come to think of it Mal had remembered going back to the hospital so it wasn't too far fetched to assume that maybe that particular incident was next in line for reminiscence. Dean knew he had to answer but he was unsure how. If Mal was merely talking of the memory he had just revisited, Dean did not want to even mention the basement.

"Go back?" Dean repeated vaguely, fully aware of how pathetic that answer was.

"To the basement." Well, at least that answered the question of what Mal was referring to. However, this did not make Dean feel any more confident.

"I'm sorry." Dean blurted out before he could think of an answer.

"Why?" Mal mumbled. At least he had not tried to pull away from Dean yet, which, in all honesty, puzzled Dean slightly.

"You were dying," Dean explained, "the drugs they had given you at the hospital proved to be nothing short of poison to you."

"That still doesn't answer my question." Mal whispered, his voice rather hoarse.

"I'm getting there." Dean chastised lightly. "We didn't know what to do but your dad found us and said he knew how to save you."

"You didn't honestly believe him, did you?" Mal questioned quietly as he pushed himself back slightly so he was leaning against the wall facing Dean. Somehow those words took a stab at Dean's heart as he realised how little faith Mal had in his own father.

"Of course not." Dean blurted out to which Mal lifted his eyebrows slightly at him. "Maybe I believed him a little bit."

"Awesome." Mal sighed tiredly. Dean had to admit that what he thought would be the best course of action at that time would be to send the boy back to bed, but now that they had started this conversation he knew they had to finish it.

"Mal, we didn't know what to do." Dean repeated earnestly. For a second he wondered if his own father would simply have said, "we didn't have a choice, accept it, that's an order." It would not have surprised him that much.

"So, what, you thought a trip to the local slaughterhouse would do the trick?" Mal asked, but there was no heat to his words. Dean wondered if the kid was just too tired to get really angry. Dean felt drained, so he could only begin to imagine how Mal felt.

"Okay, fair enough." Dean mumbled before continuing a bit louder, "Kaloc said that this, what was it called…er…Daemonkuren, that's it, would –"

"Daemonkuren?" Mal interrupted and this time his voice was edged with anger. "That was his so-called cure?"

"Yeah." Dean drawled slowly, briefly wondering if he should seek cover.

"Son of a bitch." Mal mumbled.

_Damn kid stole my line_, Dean thought as he tried to rack his brain for an appropriate comeback.

"Is that…bad?" So much for an appropriate comeback.

"Yes." Mal hissed as he fixed Dean with a glare.

"Sorry." Dean apologised again, wondering how this kid could get him to apologise so easily. He cleared his throat lightly before continuing, "So, why is that bad?"

"That's the reason why the demon has gone haywire. I can hardly control it. Just before it was talking constantly and stumbling over words. I don't really know how to explain it," Mal sighed tiredly as he rubbed his hand over his face, "it's like having twenty different people with the same voice talking over each other."

"That…man…" Dean breathed quietly as he was unsure how he was supposed to respond.

"I suppose it was the Daemonkuren that, quite literally, killed me?" Mal said, pushing himself up from the wall, though Dean was quick to jump up from the floor and steady him when he swayed on his feet, but Mal pushed him off, "'M okay."

"Sure you are." Dean noted sarcastically.

"Shut up." Mal said, but his words lacked any heat.

Mal stumbled slightly as he made his way towards the couch again, Dean not far behind, ready to catch him should he fall. The kid practically fell down into a sitting position on the couch, fiddling slightly with the hem of his t-shirt, staring intently at the floor as though waiting for it to magically change colour.

"Is my dad okay?" Mal whispered so quietly that Dean almost missed his words. To say the least he was shocked. For one, it was the first time he had ever heard the boy call his father 'dad', but also the question in itself. Why did he care? How could he care?

Then he remembered. He remembered Mal saying that Kaloc was still his father even though he was a son of a bitch, and somehow he still loved him. Dean was not sure he would ever fully understand. True, their dad had not exactly been the Top Dad of the Universe, but he had done his best…some of the time.

"He scooted off before we had the chance to kill him." Dean said truthfully, feeling rather mean for choosing his words in such a manner that could give him an insight into how Mal really felt about the issue of killing Kaloc. He wasn't disappointed as Mal flinched slightly at his words. "Mal, can I ask you something?"

"Hm…" Mal murmured as he looked up at Dean for a few seconds.

"How do you feel about your dad?" Dean asked carefully, ready to bolt from the room if necessary. He knew the boy was strong, even if he had died just a couple of days ago.

He was quite surprised though when Mal took a deep and started to speak.

"It's complicated," he said quietly, looking anywhere but at Dean, "his ways are different."

Dean could not stop himself from snorting at that comment, earning a confused look from Mal.

"Sorry." Dean apologised quickly.

"He would be alright sometimes," Mal continued, seemingly choosing to ignore Dean's momentary loss of sanity, "and it would be almost like being normal. He was actually really patient when telling me the truth about him…and me. But then, there are the times I remember waiting at home, sitting in a corner of some room trying to block out the noises of his arrival. And then there was the name-changing. I didn't understand it then, but now I don't remember much from that period."

Dean realised he was feeling rather sick. He could only imagine what Kaloc had done to make a twelve year old kid forget the sound of his own name. He rubbed a tired hand over his face, again wondering how he had ended up as the child psychologist. He desperately wished it was Sam here instead of him as his little brother had always been the more understanding and sympathetic of the two. He was certain Sam would know what to say or do, because at that moment Dean had no idea. What could he possibly say to a sixteen year old boy that would make him feel better for being treated like shit for what must feel like his whole life?

"I hated Mark, did you know that?" Mal asked suddenly, looking directly at Dean.

"Mark?" Dean drawled inquisitively.

"My mum's boyfriend." Mal said and waited for Dean to reach his level of understanding before continuing, "I guess that's one of the reasons why she got rid of me."

"Mal, you don't feel guilty about your mum dumping you with an ass, do you?" Dean asked, finding himself feeling slightly worried about Mal's response when the kid flinched slightly at his words.

"No," Mal said so quietly Dean almost couldn't hear him, "but, do you think I should?"

"No." Dean said, echoing Mal's response while he also wondered if that was actually the first time the boy had asked him for advice; for his opinion.

Mal nodded slowly but stopped quickly when the movement obviously intensified the highly probable already present headache.

"You should get some rest." Dean said, noting how worn out the boy looked.

"Can I…can I tell you something?" Mal asked quietly, Dean's statement apparently unheard.

"Sure." Dean answered as he took a seat on the couch next to Mal, unsure whether or not he should be anxious about what Mal wanted to tell him.

"I tried to fight him, you know," Mal began so quietly that Dean had to lean in closer to hear him, "I didn't just let him do whatever he wanted without putting up a fight. I never thought he would actually do it though."

Dean wanted to question Mal on what the hell he was talking about but decided against saying anything in case it stopped Mal talking.

"He said, 'Son, I'm sorry but you are forcing me to do this.' I thought it had been bad before. What a way to get your priorities straightened." Mal chuckled slightly, but it was toneless, devoid of any emotion.

It was slowly beginning to dawn on Dean that Mal was not talking about his first meeting with Kaloc or any random event, and as he realised that Mal was actually telling him about what happened in that basement, Dean knew it was important he listened, even though he was not sure he wanted to hear it. He did not say anything as he prepared himself to hear what was probably Mal's worst memory.

"He knocked me unconscious and when I woke up I was in the basement on that…that bed. He had tied me up with my hands above and behind my head. Do you have any idea how vulnerable that makes you feel?"

Dean thought briefly about what Mal had just asked him. True the question was rhetorical but it still caused Dean to truly think about it. To tell the truth he was probably not sure how vulnerable that felt. Sure he had been in some pretty bad and shitty situations more times than he would like to count, but not in the way that Mal was explaining. Again he decided against answering as it seemed Mal had not expected him to anyway as he had already continued talking.

"He would come down at random times, so I never knew what or when to expect him. I didn't understand how desperate he was to erase the human part of me. I guess I found out though." Mal took a quick shaky breath before continuing. "He did everything he could think of; that was when he gave me some of the Daemonkuren. I was quite certain I was going to die. I don't know how long the effects of it coursed through me. I had seizures through the most parts of it, and I'm telling you, man, they hurt."

Mal fell silent again and ran a shaky hand through his hair. Dean could see him reliving the entire incident in his mind as the rhythm of his breathing slowly started to increase. Dean slowly put a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed gently hoping to bring the boy back to reality. Mal flinched slightly at Dean's touch but blinked rapidly as his breathing started to return to normal again. Dean desperately wanted Mal to get some sleep but he knew once they had started this, they needed to damn well finish it.

"Then what?" Dean prompted gently.

Mal was quiet for a while and for a moment Dean wondered if he was even going to answer.

"He beat me," Mal whispered vacantly, "again, and again and again. I suppose he wanted to try and beat the human out of me and I guess it worked to an extent. I mean, look at me, I'm a freak. I was not even like this before even though he was still rough on me then. But, that's just it; he was rough but he wasn't manic. In that basement he was not human…at all. I didn't want to be like him, but he couldn't accept that, he _wouldn't_ accept that, so he kept trying. He wanted me to change but I wouldn't. Sure I could keep sane if I turned but it would take me one step closer to embracing that demon.

"I didn't think it could get any worse. I mean, I was already unconscious most of the time, but I think he was watching me; waiting for the exact moment I was awake to continue his 'treatment'." Mal said the last word with more disgust than Dean had ever heard him use. He tried to keep his voice steady but failed miserably, though no tears fell. Dean imagined that the well was probably dry by now. Mal dropped his head and rested it in his hands. Dean had a feeling that there was something that the boy needed to get off his chest, but that he also needed some encouragement.

"Mal," Dean began, but cleared his throat lightly, mostly for the distraction, before continuing, "what is it?"

"You know the knife wound in my shoulder?" Mal paused and waited for Dean's brief nod before continuing. "That hurt…a lot. Did you know that he actually apologised before plunging it into my shoulder? I mean, if he was actually sorry would he have done that? He said that he didn't know what else to do, but he knew that a human would not be able to hold on for too long if they started to bleed out, so, personally, I think that it was a desperate attempt to bring the demon out."

"Sounds about right." Dean agreed solemnly before patiently waiting for Mal to continue.

"I wasn't aware of much after that. He left the knife there and that made it completely impossible to move. I thought about using the whole shapeshifting ability to get out of there, but it just hurt so much, I couldn't…" Mal's voice trailed off and he stared intently at the carpet. Dean glanced briefly towards the doorway of the living room to see Sam and Bobby standing there, making Dean wonder if they had been there the whole time. At least that saved him from having to repeat the whole of Mal's story to them. "I know Mike and Pete found me, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't." Dean answered truthfully, though still a little unsure whether or not an answer was actually expected.

Mal turned his head and looked at him as though for the first time realising that Dean was there. Dean was not sure he liked what he saw in the boy's eyes. He looked empty, drained, but it did not surprise him. He fought against the urge to tell Mal to get some rest because he knew that there was one more thing that he had to ask him.

"Mal, did something happen at the hospital?" Dean asked, causing Mal to once more drop his gaze to the floor.

"I was scared, okay?" Mal said and Dean was surprised to hear the almost defensive tone. "I woke up in the hospital and I thought I was still in that damn basement and I freaked. It hurt everywhere and no one would talk to me. All conversation was in hushed voices and they always talked about me like I wasn't there; like I wouldn't understand. They took blood samples, but I'm not stupid, my father had warned me about what would happen if people found out about me. So, I got out of the bed one night and broke into their lab and destroyed all of the samples. If I hadn't, I would have been able to get out." Mal sounded almost bitter and Dean had a feeling he knew why. He knew the rest of the story, but hearing it from Mal would probably be a good thing, mostly because it seemed the boy actually wanted to talk to someone about it.

"Was that when they put you in restraints?" Dean inquired quietly.

"They kept me drugged and restrained so I couldn't think clearly enough to find a way out. They kept sending people in to talk to me. I knew you and Sam weren't who you said you were, but at least you weren't like the others." Mal said sounding almost vacant.

"So you knew we weren't from CPS the moment we walked into the room?" Dean asked.

"Pretty much." Mal said, a small crooked smile appearing on his face which was quickly wiped off as he continued, "The one good thing that actually came out of my father's so-called treatment was that my body became incredibly good at resisting drugs. It wasn't long before they had less and less effect on me and I was able to break out."

"You went back to the house?" Dean stated more than questioned.

"I had to get my stuff." Mal explained nonchalantly. The boy chuckled suddenly and leant back in the couch, throwing his head back so he was staring at the ceiling. "That was horrible."

"Going back to the house? I bet." Dean said with a sigh as he too leant back against the support of the couch, glancing towards the doorway again to see that Sam and Bobby were no longer visible, though he suspected that they were merely standing out of sight, listening in.

"Yeah that too; but I was talking about this whole sharing-caring moment." Mal said offhandedly.

"So, you don't feel better?" Dean asked. He had hoped that it would have had a positive effect on the boy to tell someone how close to Hell he had been.

"No, not really. Well, yes. Maybe."

"Multiple choice."

"Ha ha."

"Very funny." Dean added with a smirk at the boy's mock laugh. "But seriously, kiddo, are you okay?"

"I will be." Mal said quietly, almost more to himself.

Dean did not know whether to be pleased with that response or not, because it left room for a lot of thought. The 'will be' told Dean that Mal had hope and that he would be okay eventually, but it also told him that the kid was, at this moment, not fine; he was not okay right now.

"You should get some rest." Dean said, glad that he could finally say what he had wanted to say since he had seen Mal awake, and now the kid simply looked as if he had been through the meat grinder.

"Yeah." Mal agreed quietly, though he didn't move.

"How is your shoulder by the way?" Dean asked since Mal had shown no intention to get off the couch.

"It's fine." Mal said and Dean didn't miss the tiredness that slurred his words slightly.

"Really?" Dean questioned, wanting to be sure that the boy wasn't doing what Dean had done too many times himself: pretending to be alright when he really was not.

"No, honestly, it's fine." Mal assured him. "It's healing the way it should and it's not hurting so much anymore."

"Then, I suggest you go get some sleep." Dean pressed on.

Mal nodded slowly and pushed himself off the couch. The boy looked completely exhausted; not that Dean was surprised, it was simply hard not to laugh at how much the kid resembles a zombie as he dragged his feet out of the living room.

"Hey, Mal." Dean called after him just as the boy reached door leading out of the room.

"Yeah?" Mal said as he stopped and turned his head to look at Dean.

"If you ever need to talk, you know you can talk to us, all of us." Dean said honestly.

"Yeah, I kind of realised that." Mal joked lightly with a slight smile on his face before he continued his journey up the stairs.

"Smart-ass." Dean mumbled. He got up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen, feeling his own feet dragging a bit. "I need a beer."

* * *

So there you have it. Do you like? Do you want to read more?

Well, if you do please do tell me what you would most like to see happen in this story.

Thanks again for reading.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: We reached the round thirty, people! My gosh this story just seems to never want to end.

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter! You guys are the best!

Disclaimer: Can Supernatural please belong to me? No? Oh alright then. I don't own it. Hehe, but Mal is mine...all mine...*insert evil laughter*

* * *

It would be a lie to say that Dean was surprised to see Bobby and Sam waiting for him in the kitchen, with his brother holding out a bottle of beer towards him. Dean took it thankfully with a grunt of recognition and slumped down in a seat at the kitchen table. Bobby sat down too, his own bottle of beer breaking the silence as he set it down on the table. Dean glanced at his brother who was still leaning against the counter, beer bottle clutched tightly on his hand as though it could transform into a slippery creature at any moment and escape his grasp.

"That wasn't exactly the talk I was expecting." Dean said honestly, slightly surprised at how exhausted he felt.

"Did it help him?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, you're the genius." Dean answered vacantly as he took a swig from his bottle.

"It's just he didn't seem to feel worse afterwards, did he, so maybe he'll be okay now." Sam rambled slightly and Dean noticed his brother had yet to open his beer.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's in fluffy la-la land by now out of pure joy." Dean retorted sarcastically.

"Very funny." Sam said tonelessly and tried to take a drink before noticing he had yet to open it. Dean knew from experience to act as though he had not noticed.

"You're awfully quiet." Dean noted to Bobby who was staring at his bottle with a rather distant look on his face.

"Just thinking." Bobby grumbled.

"Now, now, Bobby, you know to be careful with that." Dean joked as he tried to get back his usual smirk.

"You better not think that just because Kaloc gave you an ass-whopping that I won't do it." Bobby said, but Dean heard the lack of heat in the older hunter's voice.

"Look, what are we going to do about Kaloc?" Sam questioned before Dean had the chance to retort. "I've done some research on his type of shapeshifter and surprise; he can't be killed by ordinary weapons, only –"

"Silver." Dean sighed, guessing the end to Sam's sentence.

"Exactly." Sam agreed, discarding his beer on the counter and joining the others at the table.

"Is that your plan then, to kill Kaloc?" Bobby asked, keeping his voice monotone.

"Why not, he's not different to anything else we've hunted?" Dean reasoned.

"I think there's a certain somebody upstairs who might disagree with you." Bobby pointed out and was met with a stare of disbelief from Dean.

"You're kidding, right? I mean, don't you think Mal is the last person on the planet who would object to this?" Dean questioned, looking directly at the older hunter.

"It's his dad, Dean." Bobby answered quietly, almost as if he was afraid the house would fall down if he spoke too loud. However, his statement made Dean clam up and think about what Bobby had just pointed out.

It was difficult to know exactly what Mal wanted because if you posed the question to him, he would merely shrug his shoulders and mumble something incomprehensible. Dean was uncertain whether or not Mal would react like this if he was asked if he wanted his father killed.

"He's a son of a bitch." Dean stated, though his tone told the others that he understood what Bobby had said.

"We should ask him." Sam said looking rather determined.

"Ask Kaloc whether we should kill him?" Dean asked looking slightly perplexed at Sam's statement.

"No, Mal." Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair which Dean noticed was long enough to almost be as bad a mop as Mal's. Almost.

"That's a conversation that's sure to go well." Dean said sarcastically and then put on an overly enthusiastic voice as he continued, "Hey Mal, how would you like to pop your dad?"

"We wouldn't exactly ask him like that, would we?" Sam objected poignantly.

"I wouldn't." Bobby mumbled before taking another swig from his beer.

"What exactly have you two geniuses got in mind, then?" Dean questioned while fiddling slightly with his now empty bottle.

Sam shrugged and for a second he looked like that four year old wanting Lucky Charms for dinner but he quickly wiped the look off his face. Bobby had this faraway look on his face that tempted Dean to come up with some obnoxious joke, but he restrained himself.

"What do you think, Bobby?" Sam finally asked and to an average bystander he looked self-confident, but Dean knew his brother and could hear the uncertainty in Sam's voice as well as see it on his face.

"You know the drill, boys, if it's supernatural we kill it." Bobby sighed and took his cap for a moment to run a hand through his hair before replacing the worn cap back on his head. "The thing is; is it really that simple?"

"That was truly enlightening. Now I'm completely sure of what we're going to do." Dean mumbled sarcastically.

Bobby took his cap off again and whacked Dean on the back of the head with it, looking rather smug as he replaced it once again on his head. Dean looked slightly disgruntled as he rubbed the back of his head absentmindedly, and Sam's slight smirk was not helping either.

The three of them was quiet for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. It was Sam who finally leaned back in his chair and voiced his thoughts.

"We should ask him what he wants to do as soon as he's up and in the meantime we can start tracking down Kaloc."

Dean nodded slowly and was suddenly unsure what way to approach this. Throughout his whole life it had been drilled into him that he should kill or be killed. It was as Bobby had said; if it's supernatural they should kill it. Kaloc had definitely bought his way into their bad books and Dean would gladly plant a silver bullet in the shapeshifter's head.

"There's one more thing." Bobby said gruffly and when the two Winchesters looked at him he continued. "Mal's family. We'll have to call them at one point or another. Preferably before they call the police on us."

"Mal's going to be pissed when he wakes up." Dean said as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"It's his family, Dean." Sam pointed out.

"No, it's a bitch who tossed him to a son of a bitch." Dean argued.

"The brother didn't do that." Sam objected.

"The brother's an ass." Dean said nonchalantly.

Sam glared at Dean and Dean could see his jaw working as he fought against snapping at Dean. He was unsuccessful.

"He was nine years old when Mal disappeared, Dean."

"Your brother's right, Dean." Bobby interjected calmly before Dean had a chance to retaliate.

"We'll ask him when he wakes up." Dean said, admitting defeat.

"Why don't we just call them now?" Sam asked.

"Because then Mal would tear you and them into little pieces." Dean said slowly as though explaining something to a five year old.

"He hates them that much?" Bobby inquired, looking slightly surprised by Dean's words.

"Mark and his mum, definitely." Dean answered.

"And I thought we had family issues." Sam joked lightly, a slight smile tucking at the corners of his lips.

* * *

Dean spent quite a bit of the day working in Bobby's salvage yard. Keeping Bobby's hospitality in mind, Dean thought he could just as well make himself useful. Sam hovered over him, occasionally asking if should help which Dean chuckled at. Sam was no mechanic. So, Sam was left to fill up the silence by talking. A lot.

Dean could not help but smile though as he lay underneath an old Buick. Sam really could have a one-sided conversation, not that Dean gave him a chance because, truth be told, he quite enjoyed to spend a bit of time with his brother. He was not always sure what Sam was talking about but apparently his responses were reasonable because Sam was still there.

"Hey Sam, hand me that screwdriver, will you." Dean said as he stretched his arm out from under the Buick. After a moment of listening to the tools being rambled around as Sam searched, he felt the cool metal of the screwdriver as it was placed in his hand. "Thanks."

"Dean?" Sam said suddenly, and Dean was surprised at how uncertain his brother sounded.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad, you know, that you didn't disappear when I was younger." Sam said rather quickly, as though he was almost embarrassed by his own words.

"Me too, Sammy." Dean said sincerely.

Dean heard Sam clear his throat rather too loudly and allowed a smile to creep onto his face. Sam could not see him after all.

"Do you miss, Dad?"

The question caught Dean completely off guard and he dropped the screwdriver resulting in several curse words as he duck around in the dirt with his fingers to get a hold of it again.

"'Course I do; what kind of question is that?" Dean said quickly and slightly irritably. "Don't you?"

"Sure I do." Sam said defensively.

"Sam, why are we even having this conversation?" Dean questioned as he continued to work on the Buick.

"I was just wondering." Sam answered weakly.

"Yeah? Wonder a little quieter." Dean snapped and immediately felt bad for it. Sam was still his little brother and he had not seen too much of him lately due to the arrival of Mal. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Sam retorted quickly. Too quickly.

"Sammy?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's Sam." Sam retaliated after a pause.

Dean let out a sigh of relief. He had been close to mucking that up but it seemed they were still okay.

"Bitch."

Dean heard Sam snigger before a well pronounced, "Jerk" was heard.

They continued as they had before; Dean was working and Sam was talking but not as much as before. Dean finally rolled out from under the Buick and Sam helped him to his feet.

"You're covered in dust." Sam pointed out.

"And grime and sweat and grease, can we move on now?" Dean said lightly.

Sam grinned and handed Dean a rag so he could rub his hands which Dean accepted gladly. They started walking back towards the house steadily and in silence, but not the awkward kind of silence, just a silence that silently told each brother that they appreciated the other's company.

When they entered the kitchen they saw a rather tussled looking Mal sitting by the table dressed in a pair of dark, worn jeans and a black hoodie. To say the least he did not look entirely awake yet but he still looked up and greeted the Winchesters when they entered.

"Where's Bobby?" Dean asked as he went to wash his hands properly.

"Study." Mal answered.

"He loves it in there." Dean said. "It's like his own little wombat cave."

Sam snorted with laughter but quickly got himself back under control.

"You never would have dared to say that if he was actually in the room." Sam chuckled.

"'Course I would." Dean said.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"You _wouldn't_."

"I _would_."

"What are you, five?"

Both Winchesters looked over at Mal who was staring at them with a bewildered look on his face.

"No," Dean answered quickly, "he just acts like it."

"What? I don't." Sam argued.

"See what I mean?" Dean said with a knowing look at Mal.

"Then you are like four." Mal said indifferently.

Dean kept looking at Mal with a rather vacant look at his face but Sam merely smiled.

"I'm going to grab a shower." Dean said and left the kitchen behind, a smile creeping onto his face as soon as he was out of sight.

The light-hearted banter the three of them had just shared placed a sense of dread over Dean as he thought of the unavoidable upcoming conversation. Mal had even looked vaguely alive by the time Dean left the kitchen which the eldest Winchester found rather incredible all things taken into consideration.

By the time Dean returned to the kitchen Sam and Mal were caught up in conversation, about what Dean had no idea but at least they both seemed intrigued.

"But Nietzsche is just an ass." Mal said with a shrug of the shoulders.

Philosophers. They were talking about Philosophers. Dean supposed he should know that he couldn't leave Sam alone anymore.

"The whole Master and Slave Morality?" Sam inquired.

"Yeah, that too, but I was thinking of the New Philosopher and the Herd Morality." Mal answered. "I mean how can you even think that revenge, punishment and survival of the fittest are the best qualities to have? It's completely insane."

"I must agree with you there." Sam said as he nodded knowingly.

"Hello by the way." Dean said as he joined them at the table, though neither registered by any other means than a small smile in his direction.

"It's interesting though –" Sam started, but Dean interrupted him.

"No, that's it. You've had your fun time. Break's over."

Sam looked at Dean with a look that made Dean wonder if he had just told his brother that he had drowned his laptop.

"Fine, what do you want to talk about?" Mal asked and Dean was once again reminded of a rebellious teenager.

"Lollipops and daisies." Dean retorted.

"Which would you prefer?" Mal questioned.

"What?" Dean said with a look at Mal, but the kid remained straight faced.

"Well, do you want to talk about lollipops or daisies?" Mal pressed on.

"You can't talk about both?" Dean asked with false incredulity.

"Sure you can." Mal stated.

"So what's the problem?" Dean questioned, unsure of where this conversation was heading.

"Just thought you might want to start with one of them." Mal said innocently.

"Okay, the conversation of lollipops and daisies is officially over." Bobby said as he walked into the kitchen looking rather amused.

"Party pooper." Dean mumbled.

"Sorry to kill the good mood but we need to talk." Bobby said gruffly as he sat down at the table. Dean noticed how Mal's relaxed posture stiffened at Bobby's words.

"About what?" Mal supplied when no one spoke.

"Kaloc and your family." Bobby said.

It was rather incredible how little it took to change the mood of the room in a matter of seconds. In minute they had all been joking around and the next they were about to ask a kid how he felt about them killing off his dad. This was sure to be a fun conversation.

"Why?" Mal inquired tonelessly.

"Because we need to know if you would be okay with…with…er…" Bobby stopped, clearly uncertain on how best to proceed.

"We need to know if you'll be okay if we kill your dad." Dean said straight out. Sam looked between him and Mal looking rather dumbfounded.

Mal stared at him before his eyes dropped to the table and sat there for a while. Dean was not sure whether he was taking in what Dean had just said or whether he was simply closing in on himself.

"Why?" He finally repeated as he raised his eyes from the table. "You're going to try and kill him whether I consent or not."

"We thought it would be better to let you in on it." Sam said quietly.

"Let me in on it?" Mal said incredulously. "Are you serious? He's my _father_, you can't honestly expect me to sit here and say I'm happy with what you're going to do. I know what you do and that my father is not some_thing_ that you can let slide because he _has_ killed humans. He _is _a monster; but you can't ask me to be a part of it; you just can't."

The silence that settled over the kitchen was deafening. Not one of the occupants in the room knew what to say, if there was even anything left to say. Mal had dropped his gaze back down to the table and the Winchester boys now both looked at Bobby for guidance.

"There's another thing." Bobby said finally and Mal raised his eyes to give him a tired look that almost made Dean want to stop Bobby from carrying on. "We're going to have to get a hold of those relatives of yours to get them off our backs."

Mal nodded slowly and seemed to turn what Bobby had just told him over in his mind several times before answering in a quiet voice.

"Do it. Call them."

They did not need telling twice and Sam quickly got out of his seat and went outside to take the phone call.

"How long had you been sitting here when Sam and I came in?" Dean suddenly asked, hoping to change the subject sooner rather then later.

"Quite a while." Mal answered simply, his eyes distant.

"The Buick is nearly ready to drive." Dean supplied with a look at Bobby.

"That's good." Bobby grunted unenthusiastically.

"I feel major unappreciated right now." Dean mumbled which Mal actually chuckled at.

Bobby grunted something again as he stood up and started working on getting some coffee ready when Sam came back inside, causing the others to look up at him expectantly.

"They'll be here tomorrow."

"Okay." Mal said simply as he got up from the table and walked outside.

"What do you think he's going to say to them?" Dean asked as he looked at the closed door Mal had disappeared out of moments earlier.

"To go to hell?" Bobby offered.

"I think he may have tried that already," Sam said, "and that obviously didn't work because they are still coming. He's been through a lot since he last saw them, perhaps he'll try a different approach."

"Perhaps." Dean agreed though he wondered what possible other approach Mal would take.

* * *

There it is - quite an uneventful chapter really, but more fun coming up later.

Just as a quick little question: do you want Kaloc to die? You literally have the power over life and death.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: First off let me just say thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far! Secondly, this chapter has been driving me around the bend and I'll be honest and say that I'm still not quite happy with it but it was getting ridiculously long, and also I thought I had left you guys hanging long enough.

So here goes...

Disclaimer: Still don't own Supernatural, but OCs are mine.

* * *

It had been interesting, to say the least, to se the sudden change in Mal's behaviour. Whereas before he had been reluctant to even mention his relatives, he had now been adamant about them being at Bobby's house as soon as that same afternoon, nearly causing Sam to call them again. Dean had found himself arguing against the boy thinking that waiting one more day would not hurt. Bobby had agreed with him. Even Sam had. The eldest Winchester did, however, sympathise slightly with his brother as Sam was the anointed one for calling Jennifer Crofton and try to make up some plausible excuse for them not talking before and also for making them wait to come until the next day. However, with Sam's brilliant younger brother geeky charm he managed to convince them to wait until the next afternoon.

Sam had looked utterly exhausted when he came back into the kitchen and Dean unsuccessfully hid a smirk, earning a glare from his brother. Mal had excused himself shortly after mumbling something about cleaning up and getting some rest. The kid certainly needed it. Both things really.

The rest of the day dragged on and though nothing of interest took place dean was on constant alert, waiting for the smallest sign of Kaloc. He did not know what to feel about the future killing of Kaloc. It was certainly something that had to happen but Dean was unsure if it would resolve problems or create them. The problematic side of his brain told him it was possibly both.

Dean also found that he was becoming restless. They never had a stakeout that lasted this long while working a case. It was normally research, find monster, kill monster and hopefully play the role of the knight in shining armour and rescue a pretty girl at the same time. That is a case well solved. This is completely different. Firstly, there is no pretty girl involved. Secondly, every time they got the point of killing the monster things just got a whole lot more complicated. It was infuriating. Dean wanted this case done and dusted. Kaloc was seriously getting on his nerves.

As dinner rolled around all three hunters noticed how quiet their guest was. There was no doubt that their previous conversation had taken its toll on the boy. Dean tried not to stare at the kid, knowing full well how perceptive Mal was and that his stare was bound to irritate him. It was a quiet meal; even Sam's feeble attempts at starting conversation went unnoticed.

In the end it was only Bobby and Dean left at the table, Sam and Mal having retired for the night. Dean resisted calling his brother a girl's name as he reasoned it was after all eleven o'clock at night and they had all been up early. Way too early, Dean concluded.

"So, the Buick is looking good." Bobby said slowly as he leant back in his chair and studied Dean carefully.

"Yeah, she'll be up and running in no time." Dean replied, wondering where Bobby was going with this and at the same time trying hard not to squirm under Bobby's gaze.

"Good." Bobby said simply as he continued to look at Dean, who was finding himself looking anywhere but at Bobby. "This is going to be tough, you know." The hunter added slowly as he waited for Dean to answer.

"What is?" Dean stalled.

"This whole mess with Kaloc and Mal." Bobby supplied even though he wondered if Dean did not already know that was what he was talking about.

"Yeah, I know." Dean said simply, not wanting to dwell on the subject. At all.

"Good." Bobby said again with the same simple air as when they had talked about the Buick. "I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same, kiddo. It's not that long ago Kaloc mauled you."

Dean chuckled slightly at that and promised he would. He liked the way Bobby inconspicuously cared. He had always been better at that than John himself because for John the hunt for Yellow Eyes was always on the highest priority; right where family should be.

The eldest Winchester waited till he heard Bobby's bedroom door close before he sauntered out of the kitchen, dragging his feet slightly. It had been a long day; one he hoped would never have to repeat itself. His general rule of no chick-flick moments had been broken by an average of three times a day. When all of this was over Dean had a feeling Sam was going to have a lot of ammunition against him.

Dean tried to remember the last time he felt so tired but his brain refused to co-operate long enough for him to even begin to ponder. He flopped down on the bed with a sigh after clumsily pulling on his nightclothes. He was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

The sunlight streamed in through the window making Dean squint against it as he slowly opened his eyes. It was morning already? Dean grunted as he heaved himself off the bed and padded towards the bathroom with a fresh set of clothes in his arms. As he walked along the hallway realisation hit him.

The house was quiet.

It was too quiet.

He had already figured out it was not exactly early, maybe around nine-ish, so the house should not be this silent.

The hunter put his clothes into the bathroom before walking back out in the hallway suddenly more awake than he had been a couple of minutes ago. He paused in front of Sam's door and carefully opened the door.

The room was empty.

Dean closed the door again and carried on down the hallway opening every door as he went but finding all of them in the same condition as Sam's. Empty.

He walked faster back to the staircase and quietly hurried down them, searching for any clues as he went. He checked the study. Empty. He checked the living room. Empty. He checked the kitchen. Empty.

He looked around again trying to find anything that could tell him if something had happened. He found nothing.

Pulling his boots on quickly over his bare feet he opened the door and walked outside. It was truly a beautiful morning but Dean didn't notice. He did not see any sign of the others as he made a quick sweep of the salvage yard. Now he wished he had brought a gun with him. He was about to go back to the house and get one when a loud gunshot sounded someway off towards a nearby woodland.

Dean ran.

His heart was pounding in his chest and a shout of his brother's name was etching to creep out. He held it back preferring instead to keep quiet and assert the situation like his father had taught him. He wouldn't be any good to anybody if he just came barging in unarmed.

He slowed down when another shot sounded, then another and another. He had reached the woodland and the gunshots were close. He crept through the forest trying to stay in cover of the trees at all times as he neared the site of where the gunshots were coming from.

After yet another shot rang through the forest he heard voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying so he went closer. He was rather baffled when it was Sam's voice he heard. Well, baffled and relieved.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"My father taught me." That was Mal.

"Well, I got to hand it to you, kid, you really are good." That was Bobby.

Wait. They were out here, the three of them and they were all fine?

"That's all good but can any of you write?" Dean said as he walked out from behind his tree and made his way towards them. All three jumped and Mal immediately had the gun pointed at Dean, who stopped and raised his hands. Mal lowered the weapon, allowing Dean to proceed.

"Anyone ever told you never to sneak up on someone with a loaded weapon?" Mal retorted as Dean reached them.

"A countless number, but it just does not seem to sink in." Dean answered and he noted a sudden smirk appearing on Sam's face.

"Like do many other things." The youngest Winchester said, his smirk still firmly in place.

"Very funny." Dean said blandly. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Feeding squirrels." Mal said sarcastically.

"You're shooting squirrels?" Dean asked incredulously.

"No," Mal sighed exasperatedly, "we're target shooting."

"Ah, that makes more sense." Dean said and smirked at Sam who merely fake-glared at him. "So, next time leave a note."

"You're mad." Sam stated, the light tone from a few seconds before changing dramatically.

"No, no, no, not mad; just slightly peeved." Dean answered.

"You were sleeping; we didn't want to wake you." Sam argued.

"And what, the pen scribbling on the paper would be so loud it would wake me?" Dean persisted. "Wait, hold that thought, yours actually might."

"We forgot, Dean." Sam said, the defensive tone from a moment earlier lost. He knew why Dean was pissed, because if the roles were reversed he knew he would probably be pretty angry too. Dean had been scared, something he would never admit, and now he was lashing out trying to hide it.

"Forgot?" Dean spurted, before taking a deep sigh and rubbing a hand over his face. "Look, I'm sorry, it's okay, just remember to leave a note the next time. I'm going to head back to the house and get changed."

"We'll come back with you, Dean." Bobby said and the four of them started making their way back.

"So, how did the shooting go?" Dean asked once he was sure he had calmed down again.

"Pretty good." Mal said vacantly.

"I knew you could shoot, kid, I've seen, but I didn't know you were this good." Bobby complimented.

"So how come you were out shooting this early in the morning?" Dean asked, hoping he was not opening a can of worms.

"Just felt like it." Mal said offhandedly.

"Yeah, I get a whim like that sometimes. I just have to go and shoot a squirrel." Dean retorted sarcastically.

"We were_ not_ shooting squirrels." Mal stated slowly but Dean noted the slight chuckle to his voice.

"I was just wondering if it wasn't a little too soon for a shooting field trip." Dean remarked and Sam glanced at him but kept quiet.

"I feel fine." Mal said and Dean as quite surprised he did not sound defensive. "Honestly, the whole human-demon balance has been restored and I feel fine."

"Okay." Dean answered, deciding to let it drop. The kid looked fine actually and he had to learn to trust Mal's ability to know himself whether or not he was feeling okay.

Mal looked slightly surprised at that as though he had awaited a questioning or berating.

As soon as they got back to the house Dean went back upstairs to take his long-awaited shower. He would certainly have to wash his nightclothes now after that morning run. He contemplated for a moment whether he should just make Sam do it. There was a time when he had been able to do that but Sam was an adult now too and, unfortunately, the more responsible of the two. Most of the time anyway.

Dean still wondered what had caused Mal's sudden desire to practice target shooting. He hoped it had nothing to do with the arrival of the relatives due to happen that afternoon. He purposefully pushed that thought out of his head because of course Mal was not planning on shooting his family members. That would be an absurd thought.

Dean reminded himself to make sure Mal was unarmed when the relatives arrived.

* * *

The afternoon rolled around faster than any of them would have liked and soon the silver BMW was parked next to the Impala. Mal looked positively sick and Dean had to resist telling Jennifer Crofton to get back in the car and go back to where she came from. Mark was there too and so was Jesse. Dean had no idea what Mal was going to do. The kid had said he was going to end this and it was first now Dean really wished he had questioned Mal prior to the arrival of the relatives. At least he had made sure the kid didn't have a gun.

"Nice of you to finally call." Mark said and they all heard the condescending tone in his voice.

"Yeah, well, there were a few things we had to take care of." Dean retorted coolly.

"I see." Mark replied in an equally icy tone.

"Dad, just knock it off." Jesse mumbled and Dean couldn't help but look at the kid in shock. He had never heard the boy talk like that.

"Jess, you just stay out of this –" the words had barely left Mark's mouth before Mal's fist connected with his jaw, sending the man stumbling backwards. "Why you little…" his words died on his lips as he looked up at Mal and what he supposed were three FBI agents behind him. Jennifer and Jesse both looked shocked, whereas Mal, surprisingly, looked nearly calm.

"It was not possible to contact you earlier as I had a near death experience." Mal said calmly.

"You had a what?" Jennifer cried out.

"Near death experience. Very near actually." Mal added the last bit on with a thoughtful look on his face. Dean nudged the kid slightly hoping he got the message not to say too much. "Can I talk to you…alone?" Mal asked looking directly at his mother who nodded uncertainly with a quick glance at Mark who was massaging his jaw gently.

Mal nodded once to Dean as he walked past him and into the house, followed by Jennifer as Jesse looked on in what looked like envy. If Dean didn't know better he would say the kid wanted to talk to his brother. He only hoped Mal would give him the chance; but who knew? Mal had certainly surprised plenty already today.

An awkward silence settled over the others as they waited. Dean had one ear open for any possible sound of a gun.

"So, what the hell is really going on?" Mark questioned after a while.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked shifting to a more comfortable position on the front steps of the house leading up to the porch.

"With Alec…or Mal or whatever his name is. He was gone for four years and suddenly shows up out of the blue a completely different kid from what he used to be." Mark elaborated, careful to keep his voice level. Jesse glanced once at his father and then back to the three hunters.

"Long story." Sam said simply.

"I get the feeling we have time for at least part of it." Mark answered with a quick glance at the house.

"Not if we are not liable to release that information." Dean retorted coolly.

"We are his family." Mark argued.

"No, she's his family," Dean said with a nod towards the house, "therefore she is also the one talking to the kid. Also because he asked to speak to her and basically sucker-punched you. I get the feeling he does not feel you have the right to know anything. At all. Zilch. Nada. Ze –"

"Dean." Sam interrupted, successfully stopping Dean's mantra.

"Technically speaking I _am_ part of his family." Mark argued earning another glance from his son.

"Are you Mal's biological father?" Sam asked nonchalantly.

"Well, no, of course I'm not – " Mark began.

"There you go then." Sam interrupted in the same collected tone he had used before.

"Okay, fine; I'll just wait for Jenny to tell me." Mark returned pathetically.

"I'm sure you will." Sam retorted tonelessly but Dean noticed the vein in his brother's neck throbbing slightly, warning him that Sam was getting either annoyed or angry. Or both. Sam could easily be both.

Silence fell over the five, Dean still listening intently for a gunshot or breaking glass. He didn't think Mal would kill his mother, no matter how much she deserved it, but if he got angry enough there was no say in what the demon could do.

Around fifteen minutes later Dean heard the backdoor close, so he waited tensely for either Mal or Miss Crofton to come around the corner. No one came. Not around the back anyway. The front door opened and a teary eyed Jennifer stepped out on the porch and started making her way down the steps.

"Jesse," she said gently as she neared her youngest son, "go round back, will you, sweetheart. Alec would like a word."

"Yeah, I bet he would." Jesse sniggered humourlessly but he didn't move.

"Come on, Jess; just go around the house that way and talk to him." Jennifer pleaded and Jesse relented with a loud sigh as he pushed himself off the bumper of the BMW where he had sat earlier on during the conversation.

Dean watched as the kid dragged his feet round the corner of the house but if Dean didn't know better he would say the whole not-bothered appearance was an act. The hunter looked back at Mark and Jennifer and by the look of things he was trying to get her to tell him what happened, but she was not very talkative. Dean smirked slightly at that.

"Look, Jenny, I just want to find out when we're taking the kid home." Mark exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"We're not taking him home." Jenny answered in a small voice.

"Come again?" Mark said, looking completely perplexed. The three hunters on the porch had also straightened at her words.

"We're not taking him home." Jennifer repeated a bit stronger.

"Why the hell not?" Mark questioned, the confused look still firmly plastered on his face.

"He's made a decision and I respect it." Jennifer responded, doing her best to keep her voice steady.

"He did what?" Mark said, his voice low as he looked at Jennifer incredulously.

"Just…he's not coming back with us and that's that." Jennifer said, her tone clearly indicating the end of the argument. It was just as well; Mark was completely speechless.

Dean slowly got off the porch and walked to the corner of the house. In the distance he could see the two boys standing face to face, though neither looked like they were about to kill the other, for which Dean was grateful. However, he was rather surprised when Jesse suddenly threw his arms around Mal, clinging to him tightly. It only took Mal a couple of seconds before he returned the hug, holding his brother close.

Feeling like an intruder Dean backed away and walked back to join the others, satisfied that there wouldn't be any flying hands, feet or heads. It certainly would be good to have one of those days for once. Sam shot him a questioning look when Dean sat down on the steps leading up to the porch again, which Dean returned with a quick thumbs up. Sam looked confused and then relieved as though he had just needed a second to figure out what Dean's thumbs up had actually meant. It could of course also be that it was Dean who had misinterpreted Sam's questioning look, but that was definitely not possible because Dean knew his little brother in and out. Of course he did.

"What's going on over there?" Mark asked with a nod towards the back of the house. He even had the decency to sound slightly concerned.

"I think they are saying goodbye." Dean said vacantly as he shuffled some dirt with his boot, suddenly fascinated by the way the dirt mingled with the pebbles so perfectly, and yet still stood out so clearly.

"You're actually serious about this, aren't you?" Mark said with an incredulous glance at Jennifer, who purposefully avoided his gaze. "He's you son! Why the hell aren't you taking him home?"

"Mark, I don't expect you to understand –"

"Well, I don't." Mark interrupted her before she could come up with some excuse.

Dean watched on in mild interest as they argued, occasionally glancing at his brother and Bobby who respectfully looked worried and intensively annoyed. The oldest Winchester brother held back a snort of laughter at Bobby's eye roll.

"So, tell me this, _agents_," Mark jeered, "what is going to happen to a sixteen year old kid who refuses to come home?"

Dean shared a look with Sam, hoping his little brother would put his geeky mind to use and come up with something quick. Sam merely turned his own gaze to Bobby and Dean almost laughed again as Sam used his infamous puppy-dog-eyes on Bobby. The elder hunter rolled his eyes again and sighed.

"He will probably enter the protection program," Bobby said, "he's been around the bad crowd for a bit too long and he needs to drop off the radar for a while. We will of course know where he is." He added the last bit when Mark opened his mouth to argue.

"I still think this sounds absolutely ludicrous." Mark said and Dean wondered if he simply had to have the last word.

The three hunters ignored him even as Jennifer blew her nose quietly and sniffed slightly. Dean briefly wondered what Mal had actually told her and, not for the first time since being at Bobby's house, wished the house was bugged. His stomach rumbled quietly and he now regretted skipping lunch. The truth was that no one had had much of an appetite; well, except for Bobby who had not seemed anxious at all about the arrival of the relatives. At least if he had been, he had hid it well.

Dean pushed himself up from the steps again and started pacing in front of the house. He could feel both Sam and Mark eyeing him but he ignored them, instead concentrating on merely putting one foot in front of the other. It was strange having one so simple thought in your mind. It was oddly comforting.

They all looked up and Dean stopped pacing when Jesse came shuffling around the corner alone looking more dishevelled than he had when he left the group but yet more composed than a minute ago when Dean had seen him and Mal. They all eyed the boy as he continued over to the car and immediately got into the back and closed the door without saying a word.

"Is it my turn now, then?" Mark questioned looking from the car, to Jennifer, to Dean, who looked at Sam, who in turn looked at Bobby, who merely shrugged. "Screw this." Mark exclaimed loudly as he took off at a fast pace around the house.

It was not long before the sound of loud voices carried to the rest of the group and Sam and Dean tore off round the house in the direction of the voices. The two brothers stopped dead in the tracks, rather surprised at what they saw.

Mal had Mark slammed up against the side of the house, the older man's throat held in a death grip with Mal's right hand. Dean could see Mal lean in and whisper something in Mark's ear that had the man spluttering even harder for air. Mal let him go and turned his back and walked away in the direction of the woodland.

Dean and Sam rushed to Mark's side who had just struggled to his feet, Sam quickly and politely asking if he was alright.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," Mark said, ignoring Sam's question, "and we're not coming back."

With that he stalked off back towards his car as quickly as he could without looking like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"I'll go check on Mal." Dean informed Sam, who nodded and followed Mark back around the house.

Dean started running off towards the spot he had last seen Mal, all the while wondering what had happened between Mal and Mark, cursing himself for not following Mark as soon as the man had left to go and talk to Mal. He should have known something was wrong from the moment Mal had greeted Mark with a handshake between his fist and Mark's jaw.

He dodged around the trees until he came to a clearing, instantly spotting Mal sitting stiffly on a log. Dean slowed down and tentatively made his way towards the log but Mal stopped him.

"Don't," he said, his voice shaking slightly as he held his hand out to signal Dean to stop, "just give me a minute."

"Are you alright?" Dean asked as he awkwardly shifted his weight slightly.

"Very near death experiences kind of screws up my control of the demon a little bit." Mal answered before he groaned quietly and leant forwards, putting his head between his knees. Dean promptly ignored the fact that earlier that same day Mal had said that everything was great. "This sucks."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at that but stopped when he took in how exhausted Mal looked.

"They're leaving," Dean said, "and they're not coming back."

Mal straightened again, looking more composed than he had moments before.

"Good," he whispered as he rather unconfidently pushed himself off the log.

"What did you tell them?" Dean asked as curiosity got the better of him.

Mal looked thoughtful for a while before he slowly started moving back in the direction of the house. He stopped when he was standing next to Dean, his gaze distant.

"The truth."

As Dean watched Mal's retreating back he was left to wonder what that truth actually was.

* * *

So there it is. By my jurisdictions there are only about two chapters left. Phew...


End file.
